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THE SPARTAN TWINS 

By Lucy Fitch Perkins 


ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR 



HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 
(Cbc fiiterjjilic prc?? CambciDoe 





Iticp jFitcIj perltmfi 



Geographical Series 

THE DUTCH TWINS PRIMER. Grade I. 
THE DUTCH TWINS. Grade III. 

THE ESKIMO TWINS. Grade II. 

THE JAPANESE TWINS. Grade IV. 

THE IRISH TWINS. Grade V. 

THE MEXICAN TWINS. Grade VI. 

THE BELGIAN TWINS. Grade VI. 


Historical Series 


THE CAVE TWINS. Grade IV. 

THE SPARTAN TWINS. Grades V-VI. 


Each volume is illustrated by the author. 


HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 


New York 


Boston 


Chicago 


COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY LUCY FITCH PERKINS 


ALL RIGHTS RESF.RVED 



Cf)e iRibemibe 


CAMBRIDGE , MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 


NOV 2C 1918 


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AD 

V 



CONTENTS 


List of Characters . . . . . v 

1. Company at the Farm .i 

II. The Stranger’s Story. 33 

III. The Shepherds. 45 

IV. Sowing and Reaping. 65 

V. The Twins go to Athens. 87 

VI. The Festival of Athena . . . . 111 

VII. Home Again. i 47 



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I 





THE SPARTAN TWINS 


The Characters in this Story are :— 

Melas, a Spartan living on the Island of Salamis, 
just off the coast of Greece. He is Overseer on 
the Farm of Pericles, Archon of Athens. 

Lydia, Wife of Melas, and Mother of Dion and 
Daphne. 

Dion and Daphne, Twin Son and Daughter of Me¬ 
las and Lydia. 

Chloe, a’young slave girl, belonging to Melas and 
Lydia. She had been abandoned by her parents 
when she was a baby, and left by the roadside to 
die of neglect or be picked up by some passer-by. 
She was found by Lydia and brought up in her 
household as a slave. 

Anaxagoras, “ the Stranger,” a Philosopher, — 
friend of Pericles. 

Pericles, Chief Archon of Athens. 

Lampon, a Priest. 

A Priest of the Erechtheum. 

Dromas, Lycias, and Others, Slaves on the Farm 
of Pericles. 

Time: About the middle of the Fifth Century B.C. 









SeCoyx/ S/^ry 































I 


I 

COMPANY AT THE FARM 



* 


I 

t 



\ 







I 

COMPANY AT THE FARM 

One lovely spring morning long years ago 
in Hellas, Lydia, wife of Melas the Spartan, 
sat upon a stool in the court of her house, 
with her wool-basket beside her, spinning. 
She was a tall, strong-looking young woman 
with golden hair and blue eyes, and as she 
twirled her distaff and twisted the white wool 
between her fingers she sang a little song to 
herself that sounded like the humming of 
bees in a garden. 

The little court of the house where she sat 
was open to the sky, and the afternoon sun 
came pouring over the wall which surrounded 
it, and made a brilliant patch of light upon 
the earthen floor. The little stones which 
were embedded in the earth to form a sort 
of pavement glistened in the sun and seemed 
to play at hide and seek with the moving 
3 


shadow of Lydia’s distaff as she spun. On 
the thatch which covered the arcade around 
three sides of the court pigeons crooned and 
preened their feathers, and from a room in 
the second story of the house, which opened 
upon a little gallery enclosing the fourth 
side of the court, came the clack clack of a 
loom. 

As she spun, the shadow of Lydia’s dis¬ 
taff grew longer and longer across the floor 
until at last the sunlight disappeared behind 
the wall, leaving the whole court in gray 
shadow. 

Under the gallery a large room opened 
into the court. The embers of a fire glowed 
dully upon a stone hearth in the center of 
this room, and beyond, through an open door, 
fowls could be seen wandering about the 
farm-yard. Suddenly the quiet of the late 
afternoon was broken by a medley of sounds. 
There were the bleating of sheep, and the 
tinkle of their bells, the lowing of cattle and 
the barking of a dog, the soft patter of bare 
feet and the voices of children. 


4 


Then there was a sudden squawking 
among the hens in the farm-yard, and 
through the back door, past the glowing 
hearth and into the court, rushed two chil¬ 
dren, followed by a huge shepherd dog. 
The children were blue-eyed and golden¬ 
haired, like their Mother, and looked so 
big and strong that they might easily have 
passed for twelve years of age, though they 
really were btit ten. They were so exactly 
alike that their Mother herself could hardly 
tell which was Dion and which was Daphne, 
and, as for their Father, he did n’t even try. 
He simply said whichever name came first 
to his lips, feeling quite sure that the chil¬ 
dren would always be able to tell themselves 
apart, at any rate. Daphne, to be sure, wore 
her chiton a little longer than Dion wore his, 
but when they were running or playing 
games she often pulled it up shorter through 
her girdle, so even that was not a sure 
sign. 

Lydia looked from one of them to the 
other as the children came bounding into 


the court, with Argos, the dog, barking and 
leaping about them, and smiled with pride. 

“Where have you been, you wild crea¬ 
tures?” she said to the twins. “ I have n’t 
seen you since noon,” and “Down, Argos, 
down,” she cried to the dog, who had put 
his great paws in her lap and was trying to 
kiss her on the nose. 

“We Ve been down in the field by the 
spring with Father,” Dion shouted, “and 
Father is bringing a man home to supper! ” 

“Company!” gasped Lydia, throwing up 
her hands. “ Whoever can it be at this time 
of the day and in such an out of the way 
place as this ? And nothing but black broth 
ready for supper! I might have had a roast 
fowl at least if only I had known. Where 
are they now?” 

“They are coming down the road,” said 
Dion. “ They stopped to see the sheep and 
cattle driven into the farm-yard. They ’ll be 
here soon.” 

Lydia thrust her distaff into the wool- 
basket by her side and rose hastily from her 
6 


stool. “There’s no time to lose,” she said. 

“ The Stranger will not wish to linger here 
if he expects to reach Ambelaca to-night. 

It is a good two miles to the village, and 
he’ll not find a boat crossing to the main¬ 
land after dark. I am sure of that, unless 
perhaps he has one waiting for him there.” 

As she spoke, Lydia drew her skirt shorter ' 
through her girdle and started for the hearth- 
fire in the room beyond. “ Shoo,” she cried 
to the hens, which had followed the chil¬ 
dren into the house and were searching 
hopefully for something to eat among the 
ashes, “you’ll burn your toes as like as 
not! Begone, unless you want to be put at 
once -into the pot! Go for them, Argos! 
Dion, you feed them. They ’ll be under foot 
until they’ve had their supper, and it’s 
time they were on the roost this minute! 
Daphne, your face is dirty; go wash it, while 
I get the fire started and see if I can’t find 
something to eat more fitting to set before 
a guest.” 

While the children ran to carry out their 
7 



Mother’s orders, Lydia herself seized the 
bellows and blew upon the embers of the fire. 
“By all the Gods! ” she cried, “there’s not 
a stick of wood in the house.” She dropped 
the bellows and ran into the court. From 
the room above still came the clack clack 
of the loom. Lydia looked up at the gallery 
of the second story and clapped her hands. 

“ Chloe, Chloe,” she called. The clacking 
suddenly stopped, and a young girl with 
black hair and eyes and red cheeks came 
8 




out of the upper room and leaned over the 
balcony rail. 

“ Did you want me? ” she asked. 

“Indeed I want you!” answered her 
mistress. “ Company is coming to supper 
. and there is nothing in the house fit to set 
before him! Hurry and bring some wood. 
There’s not even a fire! ” 

There was a sound of hasty footsteps on 
the stair, and Chloe disappeared into the 
farm-yard. In a moment she was back again 
with a basket of wood, which she placed be¬ 
side the hearth. Lydia knelt on the floor and 
laid the wood upon the coals. Then she blew 
upon them energetically with the bellows. 
Chloe knelt beside her and blew too, but 
not with bellows. The ashes flew in every 
direction. 

“ Mercy! ” cried Lydia, “ you Ve a breath 
like the blasts of winter! You will blow the 
sparks clear across the court and set fire to 
the thatch if you keep on ! Come ! Get out 
the oven and start a charcoal fire! We can 
bake barley-cakes, at least, and there are 
9 



sausages in the store-room. See if there is 
fresh water in the water-jar.” 

“There isn’t a drop. I know,” said 
Daphne. “ I took the last to wash my face.” 

“ Was there ever anything like it ? ” cried 
Lydia. “ Fresh water first of all! Run at 
once to the spring, Chloe. I ’ll get the oven 
myself. Daphne, you take the small water- 
jar and go with Chloe.” 


lO 



As Chloe and Daphne, with their water- 
jars on their shoulders, started out of the 
back door for the spring, the door at the 
front of the court opened, and Melas entered 
with a tall, bearded man wearing a long cloak. 

The moment she heard the door move on 
its hinges, Lydia stood up straight and tall 
beside her hearth-fire, and, at a sign from 
her husband, came forward to greet the 
Stranger. 

'‘You are welcome,” she said, “to such 
entertainment as our plain house affords. I 
could wish it were better for your sake.*’ 

“ I shall be honored by your hospitality,” 
said the Stranger politely, “ and what is 
good enough for a farmer is surely good 
enough for a philosopher, if I may call my¬ 
self one.” 

“ Though you are a philosopher, you are 
also, no doubt, an Athenian,” replied Lydia, 
“and it is known to all the world that the 
feast of the Spartan is but common fare for 
those who live delicately as the Athenians 
do.” 


II 


“ I bring an appetite that would make a 
feast of bread alone,” answered the Stranger. 

Melas, a tall brown-faced man with a 
brown beard, now spoke for the first time. 

“ There is no haste, wife,” he said. “ The 
Stranger will spend the night under our 
roof. It is not yet late. While you get sup¬ 
per, we will rest beneath the olive trees and 
watch the sun go down behind the hills.” 

“Until I can better serve you, then,” 
Lydia replied; and the two men went out 
again through the open door, and sat down 
upon a wooden bench which commanded 
a view of the little valley and the hills be¬ 
yond. 

Meanwhile, within doors, Lydia dropped 
the stately dignity of her company manners 
and became once more the busy housewife. 
When Chloe and Daphne returned from 
the spring, she had barley-cakes baking in 
the oven, and sausages were roasting be¬ 
fore the hearth-fire. A kettle of broth 
steamed beside it. 

“ How good it smells! ” cried Dion, when 


12 


he came in with Argos from the farm-yard. 
“ I could eat a whole pig myself Do cook 
a lot of sausages, Mother. I am as hungry 
as a wolf” 

“And you a Spartan boy!” said his 
Mother reprovingly. “ You should think 
less of what you put in your stomach! 
Plain fare makes the strongest men. It is 
only polite to give a guest the best you 
have, but that’s no excuse for being greedy 
and wanting to stuff yourself every day.” 

“ Well, then,” said Dion, “ I wish Hermes, 
if he is the god who guides travelers, would 
bring them this way oftener. I’d like to be 
a strong man, but I like good things to eat, 
too, and when we have company, we have 
a feast.” 

His Mother did not answer him; she was 
too busy. 

She sent Chloe to the closet for a jar of 
wine, and some goat’s-milk cheese, and she 
herself went upstairs to get some dried figs 
from the store-room. Daphne followed 
Chloe to the closet, and for a moment there 


13 



was no one beside the hearth-fire but Dion 
and Argos, and the sausages smelled very 
good indeed. 

“ I wonder if she counted them,” thought 
Dion to himself, as he looked longingly at 
them. And then almost before he knew it 
himself he had snatched one of the sausages 
from the fire and had bitten a piece off the 
end ! It was so very hot that it burned both 
his fingers and his tongue like everything, 
14 


and when he tried to lick his fingers, he let 
go of the sausage, and Argos snapped it 
up and swallowed it whole. It burned all 
the way down to his stomach, and Argos 
gave a dreadful howl of pain and dashed 
through the door out into the farm-yard. 
Dion heard his Mother s footsteps coming 
down the stair. He thought perhaps he’d 
better join Argos. 

When Lydia reached the hearth-fire once 
more, only Daphne was in the room. She 
set down the basket of figs and knelt to 
turn the sausages. She had counted them 
and she saw at once that one was missing. 
She was shocked and surprised, but she 
guessed what had become of it. Mothers 
are just like that. She rose from her knees 
and looked around for the culprit. She saw 
Daphne. 

“You naughty boy!” she said sternly to 
Daphne. “What have you done with that 
sausage?” 

“I didn’t do anything with it; I never 
even saw it,” cried poor Daphne. “And, 

15 


besides that, I’m not a naughty boy. I'm 
not a boy at all! I’m Daphne! ” 

“Where’s Dion, then ? ” demanded Lydia. 

“ I don’tknow where he is,” said Daphne. 
“ I did n’t see him either, but I heard Argos 
howl as if some one had stepped on his tail. 
Maybe he took the sausage.” 

Lydia went to the door and looked out 
into the farm-yard. Away off in the farthest 
corner by the sheep-pen she saw two dark 
shadows. 

“ Come here at once,” she called. 

Dion and Argos both obeyed, but they 
came very slowly, and Argos had his tail 
between his legs. Lydia pointed to the 
fire. 

“Where is the other sausage?” she in¬ 
quired, with stern emphasis. 

“Argos ate it,” said Dion. 

“Open your mouth,” said his Mother. 
She looked at Dion’s tongue. It was all red 
where it was burned. 

“I suppose Argos took it off the fire and 
made you bite it when it was hot,” said 

i6 





Lydia grimly. “Very well, he is a bad dog 
and cannot have any sausage with his sup¬ 
per. And a boy that has n’t any more man¬ 
ners than a dog can’t have any either. And 
neither one can be trusted in the kitchen 


17 





where things are cooking. Go and sit on 
the wood-pile until I call you.” 

She put both Dion and Argos out of 
doors and turned to her cooking again. 

'‘Supper is nearly ready,” she called at 
last to Chloe. “You and Daphne may bring 
out the couch and get the table ready.” 

Under the arcade in the court there was 
a small wooden table. Chloe and Daphne 
lifted it and brought it near the fire. Then 
they brought a plain wooden bench that also 
stood under the thatch and placed it beside 
the table. They arranged cushions of lamb’s 
wool upon the bench, and near the foot set 
a low stool. Daphne brought the dishes, 
and when everything was ready, Lydia sent 
Chloe to call her husband and the Stranger, 
while she herself went out to the farm-yard. 
She found Dion and Argos sitting side by 
side on the wood-pile in dejected silence. 

“Come in and wash your hands,” she said 
to Dion. “If you get yourself clean, wrists 
and all, you may have your supper with us, 
but remember, no sausage. You have had 

i8 


yours already. And mind you don't swallow 
your fingers with your food.” This is what 
mothers used to say to their children in 
those days, because there were no knives 
or forks, and often not even spoons, to eat 
with. 

Lydia did n’t invite Argos in, but he came 
anyway, and lay down beside the fire with 
his nose on his paws, just where people 
would be most likely to stumble over him. 

When Melas and the Stranger came in, 
they sat down side by side on the couch. 
Chloe knelt before them, took off their 
sandals, and bathed their feet. Then the 
Stranger loosened his long, cloak-like gar¬ 
ment, and he and Melas reclined side by 
side upon the couch, their left elbows rest¬ 
ing on the lamb’s-wool cushions. Chloe 
moved the little table within easy reach of 
their hands, and Lydia took her place on 
the stool beside the couch. It was now quite 
dark except for the light of the hearth-fire. 

The Twins had been brought up to be 
seen and not heard, especially, when there 

19 




was company, and as Dion was not anxious 
to call attention to himself just then, the two 
children slipped quietly into their places on 
the floor by the hearth-fire just as Melas and 
the Stranger dipped their bread into their 
broth and began to eat. 

It must be confessed that Melas seemed 
to enjoy the black broth much more than 


20 


his guest did, but the Stranger ate it never¬ 
theless, and when the last drop was gone, 
the men both wiped their fingers on scraps 
of bread and threw them to Argos, who 
snapped them up as greedily as if his tongue 
had never been burned at all. Then Chloe 
brought the sausages hot from the fire, and 
barley-cakes from the oven. When she had 
served the men and had explained that 
these cakes were really not so good as 
her barley-cakes usually were, Lydia gave 
the Twins each one, and she gave Daphne 
a sausage. She just looked at Dion without 
a single word. 

He knew perfectly well what she meant. 
He munched his barley-cake in mournful 
silence, and I suppose no sausage ever 
smelled quite so good to any little boy in 
the whole world as Daphne’s did to Dion 
just then. However, there were plenty of 
barley-cakes, and his mother let him have 
honey to eat with them, which comforted 
Dion so much that when the Stranger be¬ 
gan to talk to Melas, he forgot his troubles 


entirely. He forgot his manners too, and 
listened with his eyes and mouth both wide 
open until the honey ran off the barley- 
cake and down between his fingers. Then 
he licked his fingers! 

No one saw him do it, not even his 
Mother, because she too was watching the 



22 





Stranger. A guest was a great event to 
the inhabitants of the little farm. They 
lived so far from the sea, and so far from 
highways of travel on the island, that the 
Twins in all their lives had seen but few 
persons besides their own family and the 
slaves who worked on the farm. The Stran¬ 
ger was to them a visitor from another 
world — the great outside world which lay 
beyond the shining blue waters of the bay. 
They had seen that distant world some¬ 
times from a hill-top on a clear day, but 
they had never been farther from home 
than the little seaport of Ambelaca two 
miles away. 

“How is it,” the Stranger was saying 
to Melas, “that you, a Spartan, live here, 
so far from your native soil, and so near 
to Athens? The Spartans have but little 
love for the Athenians as a rule, nor for 
farming either, I am told.” 

“We love the Athenians quite as well 
as they love us,” answered Melas; “and 
as for my being here, I have my father to 
23 


thank for that. He was a soldier of the 
Persian Wars and settled here after the 
Battle of Salamis. I grew up on the island, 
and thought myself fortunate when I had a 
chance to become overseer on this farm.” 

“Who is the owner of the farm ?” asked 
the Stranger. 

“ Pericles, Chief Archon of Athens,” an¬ 
swered Melas. 

“You are indeed fortunate to be in his 
service,” said the Stranger. “ He is the 
greatest man in Athens, and consequently 
the greatest man in the world, as any Athe¬ 
nian would tell you ! ” 

“ Do you know him? ” asked Dion, quite 
forgetting in his interest that children should 
be seen and not heard. 

Lydia shook her head at Dion, but the 
Stranger answered just as politely as if 
Dion were forty years old instead of ten. 

“Yes,” he said, “I know Pericles well. 
I went with him only yesterday to see the 
new temple he is having built upon the 
great hill of the Acropolis in Athens. You 
24 


have seen it, of course,” he said, turning to 
Melas. 

“ No,” answered Melas. “ I sell most of 
my produce in the markets of the Piraeus, 
and go to Athens itself only when neces¬ 
sary to take fruit and vegetables to the city 
home of Pericles. There is no occasion to 
go in the winter, and the season for plant¬ 
ing is only just begun. Perhaps later in 
the summer I shall go.” 

“ When you do,” said the Stranger, “ do 
not fail to see the new building on the sa¬ 
cred hill. It is worth a longer journey than 
from here to Athens, I assure you. People 
will come from the ends of the earth to see 
it some day, or I am no true prophet.” 

“Oh,” murmured Daphne to Dion, “don’t 
you wish we could go too?” 

“You can’t go. You’re a girl!” Dion 
whispered back. “Girls can’t do such things, 
but I’m going to get Father to take me with 
him the very next time he goes.” 

Daphne turned up her nose at Dion. “ I 
don’t care if I am a girl,” she whispered 

25 



back. “I’m no Athenian sissy that never 
puts her nose out of doors. I can do every¬ 
thing you can do here on the farm, and I 
guess I could in Athens too. Besides, no 
one would know I’m a girl; I look just as 
much like a boy as you do. I look just like 
you.” 

“You do not,” said Dion resentfully. 
“You can’t look like a boy.” 

“All right, ’ ’ answered Daphne, ‘ ‘ then you 
A must look just like a girl, for you know very 

well Father can’t tell us apart, so there now.” 

26 


Dion opened his mouth to reply, but just 
then his Mother shook her head at them, 
and at the same moment Chloe, coming in 
with the wine-jar, stumbled over Argos and 
nearly fell on the table. Argos yelped, and 
Dion and Daphne both laughed. Lydia was 
dreadfully ashamed because Chloe had been 
so awkward, and ashamed of the Twins for 
laughing. She apologized to the Stranger. 

“Oh, well,” said the Stranger, and he 
laughed a little too, even if he was a philos¬ 
opher, “boys will be boys, and those seem 
two fine strong little fellows of yours. One 
of these days they ’ll be competing in the 
Olympian games, I suppose, and how proud 
you will be if they should bring home the 
wreath of victors ! ” 

“They are as strong as the young Her¬ 
cules, both of them,” Melas answered, “but 
one is a girl, so we can hope to have but 
one victor in the family at best.” 

“Perhaps two would make you over 
proud,” said the Stranger, smiling, “so it 
may be just as well that one is a girl, after all.” 

27 



Dion sat up very straight at these words, 
but Daphne hung her head. “I do wish I 
were a boy too,” she said, “they can do so 
many things a girl is not allowed to do. 
They get the best of everything.” 

“That must be as the Gods will,” said 
the Stranger kindly. “And Spartan women 
have always been considered just as brave 
as men, even if they are n’t quite as big. 

28 



Anyway, some of us have to be women be¬ 
cause we can’t get along without women in 
the world.” 

Two bright spots glowed in Lydia’s 
cheeks, and she twirled her distaff faster 
than ever. “ I should think not, indeed,” 
she said. “ Men are n't much more fit to take 
care of themselves than children! ” 

Melas and the Stranger laughed, and the 
Stranger turned to Daphne. 

“Don’t you remember, my little maid, 
how glad Epimetheus was to welcome Pan¬ 
dora, even if she did bring trouble into the 
world with her?” he asked. 

“ No,” said Daphne, “ I don’t know about 
Pandora. Please tell us about her!” 

Lydia rose and glanced up at the stars. 
“It’s getting near bed-time,” she said to 
the Twins; and to the Stranger she added, 
“You must excuse the boldness of my chil¬ 
dren. They are brought up so far out of the 
world they scarcely understand the rever¬ 
ence due men like yourself. You must not 
permit them to impose upon your kindness.” 

29 


‘‘I will gladly tell them about Pandora if 
you are willing,” said the Stranger. “The 
fine old tales of Hellas should be the birth¬ 
right of every child. They will live so long 
as there are children in the world to hear 
them and old fellows like myself to tell 
them.” 

“If you will be so gracious then,” said 
Lydia, “but first let us prepare ourselves 
to listen.” 

She signed to Chloe, who immediately 
brought a basin and towel to the Stranger 
and Melas. When they had washed their 
hands, she carried away the basin and swept 
the crumbs into the fire, while Lydia filled 
cups with wine and water and set them be¬ 
fore her husband and his guest. Then wood 
was piled upon the fire, and Lydia seated 
herself beside it once more with her distaff 
and wool-basket, while Chloe crept into the 
shadow behind her mistress’s chair, and the 
Twins drew nearer to her footstool. When 
everything was quiet once more, the Stran¬ 
ger lifted his wine-cup. 

30 


“Since we are in the country,” he said, 
“we will make our libation to Demeter, the 
Goddess of the fields. May yours be fruit¬ 
ful, with her blessing.” He poured a. little 
wine on the earthen floor as he spoke. There 
was a moment of reverent silence. Then 
while the flames of the hearth danced up¬ 
ward toward the sky and the stars winked 
down from above, the Stranger began his 
story. 


Ji 




I 



I 










« 


1 




II 

THE STRANGER’S STORY 




i 



II 

THE STRANGER^S STORY 

‘‘ Long, long ago, when the earth was young 
and the Gods mingled more freely with men 
than they do to-day, there lived in Hellas 
a beautiful youth named Epimetheus. I am 
not quite sure that he was the very first 
man that ever lived, but at any rate he was 
one of the first, and he was very lonely. 
The world was then more beautiful than I 
can say. The sun shone every day in the 
year, flowers bloomed everywhere, and the 
earth brought forth abjundantly all that he 
needed for food, but still Epimetheus was 
not happy. The Gods saw how lonely he 
was and they felt sorry for him. 

“ ‘ Let us give him a companion,’ said 
Zeus, the father of all the Gods. ‘ Even 
sun-crowned Olympus would be a desolate 
place to me if I had to live all alone.’ So 
35 


the Gods all fell to hunting for just the right 
companion to send to poor lonely Epime- 
theus, and soon they found a lovely maiden 
whose name was Pandora. ‘ She’s just the 
right one,’ said Aphrodite, the Goddess of 
Love. ‘See how beautiful she is.’ ‘Yes,’ 
said Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, ‘ but 
she will need more than beauty or Epime- 
theus will tire of her. One cannot love 
an empty head forever, even if it is a 
beautiful one. I will give her learning and 
wisdom.’ 

“ ‘ I will give her a sweet voice for sing¬ 
ing,’ said Apollo. In this way each one of 
the Gods gave to Pandora some wonderful 
gift, and when the time came for her de¬ 
parture from Olympus, where the Gods 
dwell, these gifts were packed away in a 
marriage-chest of curious workmanship, 
and were taken with her to the home of 
Epimetheus. 

“ You can imagine how glad Epimetheus 
was to receive a bride so nobly endowed, 
and for a time everything went very hap- 
36 


plly upon the earth. At last, one sad day, 
a dreadful thing happened. 

Pandora had been told by the Gods that 
she must not open the box, lest she lose all 
the blessings it contained. 

“ But she was curious. She .wished to 
see with her own eyes what was in it, and 
one day, when Epimetheus was away from 
home, she lifted the corner of the lid! Out 
flew the gifts of the Gods! She tried her 
best to close the lid again, but before she 
could do so, the blessings had flown away 
in a bright cloud. 

“Poor Pandora! She sat down beside 
the box and wept the very first tears that 
were ever shed in this world. While she 
was weeping and blaming herself for her 
disobedience and the trouble it had caused, 
she heard a little voice, way down in the 
bottom of the box. 

“‘Don’t cry, dear Pandora!’the little 
voice said. ‘You can never be quite un¬ 
happy when I am here, and I am always 
going to stay with you; I am Hope.’ So 
37 


Pandora dried her tears, and no matter how 
full of sorrow the world has been since, 
there has never been a time when Hope 
was gone. If that time should ever come, 
the world would be a desolate place in¬ 
deed.’’ 

When he had finished the story, no one 
said anything at all for a minute, and then 
Daphne looked up at the Stranger. 

“Is that really the way all the troubles 
began?” she asked. “Because if it is n’t, I 
think it’s mean to blame everything on 
poor Pandora.” 

“Why, Daphne!” said her Mother in 
a shocked voice ; but the Stranger only 
smiled. 

“ I should not be surprised if Epimetheus 
were to blame for a few things himself,” he 
said, stroking his beard. “Anyway, I’m 
sure he felt he would rather have Pandora 
and all the troubles in the world than to live 
without her, and men have felt the same 
way ever since.” 

“Well, then,” began Daphne, her eyes 


shining like two blue sparks, “ why 
don’t — ? ” 

“ Daphne! Daphne! ” cried Lydia warn- 
ingly. “You are talking too much for a lit¬ 
tle girl.” 

The Stranger nodded kindly to Lydia. 
“ Let her speak,” he said. Daphne spoke. 

“ Did n’t Athena say Epimetheus would 
get tired of Pandora if she had an empty 
head?” 

“ Yes,” admitted the Stranger, “the story 
certainly runs that way.” 

“And have men felt like that ever since 
too?” Daphne asked. 

“Yes, I think so,” answered the Stranger. 
“Certainly women need wisdom now as 
much as Pandora did.” 

“Then why don’t they let us learn things 
the same as boys,” gasped Daphne, a little 
frightened at her own boldness. “Dion’s 
always telling me I can’t do things or go to 
places because I am a girl. I want to know 
things if I am a girl. I can’t try for the 
Olympian games and I can’t even go to see 
39 


them just because I am a girl.” She stopped 
quite overcome. 

Melas and Lydia and Dion were all too 
astonished to speak. Only the Stranger did 
not seem shocked. He drew Daphne up be¬ 
side him. 

“My dear,” he said, “a child can ask 
questions which even a philosopher can¬ 
not answer. I do not know myself why the 
world feels as it does, but it certainly has 
always seemed to be afraid to let women 
know too much. It has always seemed to 
prefer they should have beauty rather than 
brains.” 

“Yes, but,” urged Daphne, “I don’t see 
why I can’t try for the games too, when I 
am big enough. I can run just as fast as 
Dion and do everything he can do.” 

Melas smiled. “ Daphne is true to her 
Spartan blood,” he said. “The girls used to 
compete in the games at Sparta.” 

The Philosopher stroked Daphne’s hair. 
“ So your name is Daphne,” he said, smiling. 
“ And you can run fast and you have golden 
40 


hair! Did you know it was to the fleet-footed 
nymph Daphne with golden hair that we owe 
the victor’s crown at the Olympian games, 
even though no woman may wear it?” 

Daphne shook her head. “I don’t know 
what you mean,” she said. 

“I mean this,” said the Stranger. ‘‘It is 
said that once upon a time Apollo himself 
loved a beautiful nymph named Daphne. 
But Daphne did not love Apollo even though 
he was a God, and when he pursued her she 
ran away. She was as swift as the wind, but 
Apollo was still more swift, and when she 
saw that she could not escape him by flight, 
she prayed to her father, who was a river 
god, and, to protect her, he changed her 
form by magic. Her arms became branches, 
her golden hair became leaves, and her 
feet took root in the ground. When Apollo 
reached her side, she was no longer a beau¬ 
tiful maiden, but a lovely laurel tree. Apollo 
gathered some of the shining leaves and 
wove them into a wreath. ‘ If you will not 
be my bride,’he cried, ‘you shall at least be 

41 


my tree and your leaves shall be my crown,’ 
and that is why at the games over which 
Apollo presides, the victor is still crowned 
with laurel. It was Apollo himself who gave 
us the custom and made it sacred. So, my 
little maid,” he finished, “ you give us our 
crowns even though you may not win them 
for yourselves, don’t you see? Isn’t that 
almost as good ? ” 

“Maybe it is,” sighed Daphne, thought¬ 
fully, “ but anyway I ’d like to try it the other 
way.” Then she slid from the Stranger’s 
side to her Mother’s footstool, and sat down 
with her head against her Mother’s knee. 

“You are sleepy,” said Lydia, stroking 
her hair. “It is time you children were in 
bed.” 

“Oh, Mother,” pleaded Dion, “please 
let him tell just one more story. It is n’t 
late, truly.” Then he turned to their guest. 
“Those were very good stories,” he said, 
“but they were both about girls. Won’t you 
please tell me one about a boy ?” 

“Very well,” said the Stranger, “ifyour 
42 


Mother will let me, I will tell you the story 
of Perseus and how the great Goddess 
Athena helped him to cut off the Gor¬ 
gon’s head with its writhing snaky locks I 
There’s a story for you ! And if you don’t 
believe it is true, some day, when you go 
to Athens with your Father, you can see 
the Gorgon’s head, snakes and all, on the 
breastplate of the Goddess Athena, where 
she has worn it ever since.” 

“Is it the real Gorgon’s head?” asked 
Dion breathlessly, “all snakes and blood 
and everything?” 

“No,” said the Stranger, laughing, “the 
blood of the Gorgon dried up long ago. It 
is a sculptured head that adorns the breast¬ 
plate of Athena.” 

Then the Twins and Chloe listened with 
open mouth and round eyes to another of 
the most wonderful stories in the world, 
while Lydia forgot to spin and the wine-cup 
of Melas stood untouched within reach of 
his hand. Even Lydia forgot all about time, 
and when the story was finished, the moon 
43 


had already risen and was looking down 
upon them over the wall. Lydia pointed to 
it with her distaff. 

“See, children,” she said, “the Goddess 
Artemis herself has come to light you to 
bed. Thank your kind friend and say 
good-night.” 


Ill 

THE SHEPHERDS 


.-wAV 


- J 











Ill 

THE SHEPHERDS 

The next morning Dion was wakened by 
feeling a cold wet nose wiggling about in 
the back of his neck. It was Argos’ nose. 
Dion knew it at once. He had felt it be¬ 
fore. 

“ Go away, Argos,” he said crossly. He 
pulled the sheepskin coverings of his bed 
closer about his ears and turned over for 
another nap. 

But Argos was a good shepherd dog 
and he knew that his first work that morn¬ 
ing was to round up the Twins. So he 
gamboled about on his four clumsy paws 
and barked. Then, seeing that Dion had 
no intention of getting up, he seized the 
sheepskin covers and dragged them to the 
floor. 

“ Bow-wow,” he said. 

47 


Dion sat up shivering. “ Good dog/’ 
said Dion, “go away from here; go wake 
Daphne! ” 

“ Bow-wow, bow-wow,” said Argos, and 
bounded off to Daphne’s room to wake her 
too. 

Dressing took only a minute, for the 
children each wore but one garment, and 
there were no buttons; so, though they 
were sleepy and their fingers were cold and 
clumsy, they appeared in the court while 
the roosters in the farm-yard were still 
crowing and the thrushes in the olive trees 
were in the midst of their sunrise song. 
Chloe had already gone out to feed the 
chickens. Lydia was bending over the 
hearth-fire, and their Father was just say¬ 
ing good-bye to the Stranger at the door 
of the court, and pointing out to him the 
road to the little seaport town. 

“You will probably find a boat going 
over to the Piraeus some time to-day/’ he 
said, “and as they usually go early in the 
morning, it is well for you to make an early 

48 


start from here. May Hermes speed you 
on your way.” 

“Farewell,” said the Stranger, “and if 
ever a philosopher can serve a farmer, you 
have but to ask in the Piraeus for the home 
of Anaxagoras. I thank you for your hos¬ 
pitality,” and with these words he was 
gone. 

Melas had eaten his breakfast of bread 
and wine with his guest before dawn, and 
was now ready for the day’s work in the 
fields. The slaves of Pericles were already 
in the farm-yard, yoking the oxen, milk¬ 
ing the goats, and getting out the tools. 
There were pleasant early sounds all about, 
but the Twins hovered over the hearth-fire, 
for the morning was chill; and Dion yawned. 
Lydia saw him. 

“Come,” she said briskly, “wash your 
faces ! That will wake you up, if you are 
still sleepy. And then I ’ll have a bite for 
you to eat, and some bread and cheese for 
you to carry with you to the hills.” 

Are we going to the hills ? ” asked Dion. 

49 


“Yes,” said Melas. “To-day you must 
watch the sheep. Dromas has to help me 
plough the corn-field. You are old enough 
now to look after the flock and bring the 
sheep all safe home again at night. Come, 
move quickly ! ‘ Still on the sluggard hun¬ 
gry want attends.’” 

“ They were up too late,” said Lydia. “ If 
they can’t wake up in the morning they 
must go to bed very early every night.” 

When Dion and Daphne heard their 
Mother say that, they became at once quite 
lively, and were soon washed and ready for 
their breakfast, which was nothing but cold 
barley-cakes left over from the night before 
and a drink of warm goat’s milk. When 
they had eaten it, Daphne put the bread and 
cheese which Lydia had wrapped up in a 
towel for their luncheon in the front of her 
dress and they were ready to start. 

Melas and Dromas, the shepherd, were 
waiting for them at the farm-yard gate when 
the Twins came bounding out of the back 
door, Dion with a little reed pipe in his hand 



and Daphne carrying a shepherd’s crook. 
The sheep were huddled together at the 
gate, waiting to be let out. 

“ Be sure you keep good watch of that 
old black ewe,” said Dromas to the Twins 
as he went to open the gate. “ She is a 
wanderer. I never saw a sheep like her. 
She is always straying off by herself. Quar- 

51 






reisome too. Argos knows she has to be 
watched more than the others, and some¬ 
times when she goes off by herself and he 
goes after her, she just puts her head down 
and butts at him like an old goat. The wolves 
will get her one of these days, as sure as my 
name is Dromas.” 

“Are there wolves in the hills?” asked 
Daphne. 

“ Maybe a few,” answered Dromas, “ but 
they don’t usually come round when they 
see the flock together, and a good dog along. 
You need n’t be afraid.” 

“ I’m not afraid of any thing,” said Daphne 
proudly, and then the gate was opened, 
the sheep crowded through, and Dion and 
Daphne with Argos fell in behind the flock, 
and away they went toward the hills, to the 
music of Dion’s pipe, the bleating of the 
sheep, and the tinkling of their bells. 

The children followed the cart-path west¬ 
ward for some distance, and then left it to 
drive the flock up the southern slope of a 
rocky high hill, where the grass was already 
52 


quite green in places and there was good 
pasture for the sheep. It was still so early 
in the morning that the sun threw long, 
long shadows before them, when they 
reached the hill pasture, though they were 
then two miles from home. The pasture was 
a lonely place. Even from the hill-tops there 
were no houses or villages to be seen. Far, 
far away toward the east they could see the 
olive and fig trees around their own house. 
On the western horizon there was a glimpse 
of blue sea. In a field nearer they could 
barely make out two brown specks moving 
slowly back and forth. They were oxen, 
and Dromas was ploughing with them. It 
was so still that the children could plainly 
hear the breathing of the sheep as they 
cropped the grass, and the ripple of the 
little stream which spread out into a 
shallow river and watered the valley be¬ 
low. 

The hillside was bare except for shrubs 
and a few trees, but there were wonderful 
places to play among the rocks. Dion pro- 
53 


posed that they play robber cave in a hol¬ 
low place between two large boulders; but 
as he insisted on being the robber, and 
Daphne would n’t play if she could n’t be 
the robber half the time, that game had to 
be given up. 

Then Daphne said, “Come on! Let’s 
play Apollo and Daphne 1 I’m Daphne any¬ 
way, and I can run like the wind. You can 
be Apollo, only I know you can’t catch me ! 
I can run so fast that even the real Apollo 
could n’t catch me I ” 

Dion looked scared. 

“ Don’t you know the Gods are all about 
us, only we can’t see them he demanded. 
“Apollo may have heard what .you said, 
and if he should take a notion to punish you 
for bragging, I guess you’d be sorry. Maybe 
he ’ll turn you into a tree just like the other 
Daphne.” 

“Pooh,” said Daphne. “I’m not afraid. 
I should think the Gods would n’t have time 
to listen to everything little girls say 1 They 
can’t be very busy if they do.” 

54 


Dion was horrified. “That’s a wicked 
thing to say,” he said. “You must never 
speak that way of the Gods. Oh dear! This 
is bound to be an unlucky day. This morning 
when Argos woke me, I was having a bad 
dream! That’s a very bad sign.” 

“ It’s a sign you ate too much last night,” 
said Daphne. She said it very boldly, but 
really she was beginning to feel a little 
frightened too, for every one she knew be¬ 
lieved in such signs and omens. 

“ Come along out of this place, anyway,” 
said Dion. “ Let’s go somewhere else and 
play. Let’s go to the brook.” 

The two children came out of their cave 
between the rocks and started toward the 
little stream, which was hidden from them 
by bushes. The sheep were all grazing con¬ 
tentedly along the hillside, the old black ewe 
browsing in the very middle of the flock. 
Argos was sitting on the hill-top in the sun¬ 
shine, watching them, with his tongue hang¬ 
ing out. The sun was now quite high in the 
sky and the day was warm. The children 
55 





paddled in the water and built a dam, and 
sent fleets of leaves down the stream, and 
played knuckle-bones on a flat rock beside 
it, until at last they were hungry, and then 
they ate their bread and cheese. 

When they had finished the last crumb, 
Daphne curled herself up on the flat rock 
with her head on her arm. 

“ I’m so sleepy,” she said. I can’t keep 
awake another minute.” 

You see, they had been up ever so many 
hours then, and the sunshine was very warm, 
56 



and the bees buzzed so drowsily in the sun¬ 
shine ! 

“You and Argos watch the sheep,” she 
begged, and was asleep before you could* 
say Jack Robinson. 

Dion came out of the bushes and counted 
the flock like a careful shepherd. They were 
all there, and Argos was still on watch. 

“ I ’ll lie down a little while, too,” said 
Dion to himself, “but I won’t go to sleep. 

I ’ll just look at the sky.” 

He stretched himself out beside Daphne 
and watched the white clouds sailing away 
overhead, and in two minutes he was asleep 
too. 

How long they slept the children never 
knew. They were awakened at last by a 
long, long howl, which seemed to come from 
the other side of the hill. They sat up and 
clutched each other in terror. There was an 
answering howl from Argos, and mingled 
with it they heard the dull thud of many 
feet, the bleating of sheep, and the fright¬ 
ened cries of lambs. 


57 


“The sheep are frightened. There’s a 
stampede ! ” cried Dion. 

The two children plunged through the 
bushes and gazed about them. The whole 
flock had disappeared! Their bells could 
be heard in a mad jangle of sound from the 
farther side of the hill. Argos was barking 
wildly. 

“ Come on,” shouted Dion, springing 
out of the bushes. “We must get them 
back.” 

“ Suppose it is a wolf! ” shrieked Daphne, 
tumbling after him. 

“We’ll have to get the sheep back even 
if it is a bear,” cried Dion, and he tore 
away over the crest of the hill and down 
the farther slope. Daphne followed after 
him, as fast as she could run. 

The sheep were already a long distance 
away, in a region of the hills which the 
children had never seen before in their lives, 
but they did not stop to think of that. All 
they thought was that the sheep must be 
brought back at any cost. They could see 
58 


Argos barking and circling round the fright¬ 
ened flock, and away in the distance a huge 
wild creature was just disappearing into the 
woods. 

On the children ran, over rocks and 
through briars, until at last they reached 
the sheep, whose flight Argos had already 
checked. Dion ran beyond to turn them 
back, while Daphne herded them on one 
side and Argos on the other. When they 
had the flock together and quiet once more, 
the children counted them. 

“There’s one missing!” cried Daphne, 
aghast. “And it’s the old black ewe 1 What 
will Father say?” 

“It’s all your fault,” said Dion. “I told 
you you would have bad luck if you spoke 
about the Gods the way you did. I should n’t 
wonder if that was n’t really a wolf that we 
saw. It may have been Pan himself! Or 
it may have been Apollo, and he meant to 
show you that you can’t run even as fast 
as a sheep ! ” 

“Anyway, the old black ewe is gone. 

59 



Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall we do?” 
mourned Daphne. 

By this time the sun was low in the sky, 
and it was late afternoon. 

“The first thing to do is to get home as 
fast as we can,’' said Dion. 

“Which way is home?” said Daphne. 
Dion looked about him. “ I don’t know,” 
6o 


he said. “ Maybe Argos does. Here Argos! 
Good dog! Take ’em home! Home Argos! 
Home! ” 

Argos wagged his tail, and ran around 
behind the flock. 

“Bow-wow, bow-wow,” he barked, and 
nipped the heels of the wether. In a short 
time he had the whole flock moving toward 
a hollow between the hills. As they trotted 
along behind the sheep, Daphne struck her 
hands together in dismay. 

“What else do you think I have done?” 
she cried. “ I Ve left my crook in the rob¬ 
ber’s cave! ” 

“And I left my pipe there, too,” Dion 
wailed. 

“We can’t get them to-night anyway,” 
sobbed Daphne. “ We could never find the 
place! And besides, it is too late. It will 
be dark before we get home.” 

They trudged along behind Argos and 
the sheep in dismal silence. Argos did not 
seem at all in doubt about the way home. 
He drove the sheep through the hollow be- 

6i 


tween the hills and across two fields, and 
brought them out at last upon a roadway. 

“ This must be the road that goes by the 
house,” cried Dion joyfully. For answer 
Daphne pointed toward the east. There 
some distance ahead of them was Dromas 
driving the oxen home from the day’s 
ploughing. 

Daphne clapped her hands for joy. '' I 
knew Argos would find the way I ” she 
cried. 

The bright colors of the sunset were just 
fading from the sky when they reached the 
farm-yard gate. Dromas had gone in be¬ 
fore them with the oxen, and Melas himself 
was waiting to let them in and to count the 
sheep. 

“Where is the old black ewe?” he said 
sternly to the Twins, when the last sheep 
had passed through the gate. 

“ We don’t know,” sobbed Daphne. “We 
lost her. We lost the crook, and Dion’s little 
pipe, too. A wolf frightened the flock, and 
they ran away, and — ” 

62 


“ Maybe it was a wolf,” said Dion darkly. 

Then the Twins told the whole story to 
their Father. Melas did not say much to 
them. He was a man of few words at any 
time, but he made them feel very much 
ashamed. And when Lydia heard the things 
Daphne had said about the Gods, they felt 
worse than ever, at least Daphne did. 

That night, before the family went to 
bed, Melas kindled a fire upon the little 
altar which stood in the middle of the court 
and offered upon it a handful of barley, and 
prayed to Pan and to Apollo that Daphne 
might be forgiven for her wicked words. 



s 



4.1 


» 


r- 


•> 


> 

'j 






e 


1 



•> 


«« 


i 

j 


IV 

SOWING AND REAPING 


■I 








IV 

SOWING AND REAPING 

The children were not allowed again to 
take the sheep to the hills. “ They are not 
to be trusted,” said Melas. “They are the 
sort of shepherds that go to sleep and let 
the wolves find the flock. They are not 
real Spartans.” 

Dion and Daphne felt this as a terrible 
reproach. Dromas now had to go with the 
sheep, and so could no longer help with 
the other farm work, and the ploughing 
and sowing of the corn-field had to be 
finished by Melas himself. The Twins did 
their best to help. When Melas scattered 
the grain, they followed with rakes and 
scratched a layer of earth over the seeds. 
The crows watched the planting with much 
interest. 

“ Look at them,” cried Dion to his Father 
67 


one afternoon. “There are five of them on 
that tree yonder, and the minute we get to 
one end of the field they begin to scratch 
up the grain at the other.” 

“We’ll fix them,” said Melas shortly. 

He sent the Twins to the house for sticks 
and straw and his old worn-out sheepskin 
cloak and hat, and when they came back, 
Melas stuck two long sticks of wood in the 
ground and bound a cross piece to them 
with strips of leather. Then he wound the 
sticks with straw, and made a round bun¬ 
dle of straw at the top. He tied it all se¬ 
curely with thongs. Then he dressed it 
with the sheepskin and put on the hat. 
When it was done, it was the scariest look¬ 
ing scarecrow you ever saw ! 

“ I guess that will frighten the crows 1 ” 
said Dion, as he gazed at it admiringly. 
“ It just about scares me.” 

“ Caw, caw, caw! ” screamed a crow. 

A crow was flying right over his head I 
Dion shook his fist at him. “ You old 
thief I ” he cried. 


68 


“ I know one more thing we can do,” 
said Daphne. “ Lycias told me about it.” 
She got a small piece of bark and made a 
little amulet of it. She punched a hole 
through one end and put a leather string 
through it. Neither she nor Dion could 
write, so when she had explained what must 
be done Melas himself took a sharp stone 
and scratched a curse upon crows in the 
soft bark. When it was done Daphne hung 
it aboutthe neck of the scarecrow. “ There,” 
said Melas grimly, “ I don’t believe he ’ll go 
to sleep on the job. He’s a Spartan scare¬ 
crow ! Now let’s go home to supper, and 
to-morrow we ’ll see how it works.” 

The next morning the very first thing the 
Twins did was to rush out to the field and 
there, right on top of the scarecrow were 
three black crows, and more were on the 
ground eating up the seed! 

“After all we did, just look at theml” 
cried Dion. 

“Caw, caWj” screamed the crows. 

“You don’t suppose Father made amis- 
69 


take, and wrote a blessing instead of a curse 
on that amulet?" said Daphne anxiously. 
They ran back to the house as fast as they 
could go. Melas was just coming out of the 
farm-yard with a pruning-hook in his hand. 

“Oh, Father," cried Dion, “the crows 
are roosting all over the scarecrow. Maybe 
he was n’t a Spartan scarecrow after all." 

“Anyway, he seems to have gone to sleep 
on the job," added Daphne. 

Melas stared at the crows in angry si¬ 
lence. “ You children will have to get your 
clappers then, and just drive the old thieves 
away," he said at last. “You will have to 
spend the day in the field watching them. 
I ’ve got to work in the vineyard. The vines 
must be pruned." 

The Twins had not yet had their break¬ 
fast and they were hungry. So they ran to 
the kitchen, seized some barley-cakes and 
a little jar of milk, and in a few minutes were 
back again in the field. They sat down with 
the wooden clappers beside them, and ate 
their breakfast in the company of the scare- 
70 


crow. All day long-they watched the grain 
and rattled their clappers, or threw clods at 
the black marauders; It was lively work, 

71 


and although they did not like it, they re¬ 
membered. the black ewe and stuck faith¬ 
fully at it all through the long day. 

When the sun was high overhead, Lydia 
brought them some figs and cheese and a 
drink of goat’s milk. She also brought a 
message. This was the message. “Father 
says you are to stay here until after dark. 
You are to hunt around until you find a 
toad, and when you find it, you must be 
sure not to let it get away from you. He is 
going to put a magic spell on the field to 
keep the crows away, but the spell will not 
work except in the dark. So you must stay 
here until he.comes.” 

Between keeping off the birds and hunt¬ 
ing for the toad, the Twins spent a busy 
afternoon. And after the toad was found it 
was no joke to try to keep it. It was a won¬ 
derful hopper and nearly got away twice. 
At dusk the crows flew away to their nests, 
and the children were alone in the field until 
the twilight deepened into darkness. Owls 
had begun to hoot and bats were flying 

72 


about, when at last they saw three dim, 
shadowy figures coming across the field. 

The shadowy figures were Melas, Lydia, 
and Chloe. Lydia bore a jar, which she 
placed beside the scarecrow in the middle 
of the field. Melas took the toad in his hand, 
formed the others in line, and then sol¬ 
emnly headed the procession as the five 
walked slowly round the entire field, carry¬ 
ing the toad. When they got back to the 
scarecrow again, Melas put the toad in the 
jar and sealed it. Then he buried the jar in 
the middle of the field, beside the scare¬ 
crow. 

“There,” said Lydia, when it was done, 
“that’s the very strongest spell there is. If 
that does n’t protect the corn, I don’t know 
another thing to do.” 

Whether it was the scarecrow, or the 
curse, or the spell, I cannot say, but it is 
certain that the corn grew well that sum¬ 
mer, and when harvest time came, Melas 
was so proud of his crop that he decided 
to have an extra celebration. So one day 
73 


in late summer every one on the entire 
farm rose with the dawn and hastened to 
the fields. It was the twelfth day of the 
month, which was counted a lucky day for 
harvesting, and every one was gay, as, with 
sickles in hand, slaves and master alike en¬ 
tered the field of ripe grain. Melas and two 
other men led the way, cutting the stalks 
and leaving them on the ground to be gath¬ 
ered into sheaves and stacked by others 
who followed after. 

Meanwhile Lydia, Chloe, and the other 
women prepared an out-of-door feast. A 
calf had been killed and cut up for cooking, 
and in the afternoon a huge fire was built. 
Lydia had charge of the cooking. She set 
great pieces of meat before the fire to roast, 
and told the children to sit by and turn them 
often to keep them from burning. Dion and 
Daphne also brought wood for the fire, while 
the slave women mixed cakes of meal and 
baked them in the ashes, or went to the 
spring for water, or carried refreshing drinks 
to the workers in the field. 


74 



It was sundown when the last sheaf was 
stacked and Melas gave the signal to stop 
work. Chloe at once brought cool water 
from the spring to the tired harvesters, and 
when they had washed their hot hands and 
faces, Melas made a rude altar of stones, 
kindled a fire upon it, and, calling the peo- 
75 


pie together, offered upon it a handful of the 
new grain and made a prayer of thanks to 
Demeter, the Goddess of the fields, for the 
rich harvest. When this was done, the feast 
was ready. The meat and cakes and wine 
were passed to the men by the women, and 
when they had been well served, the women 
too sat down under a tree and ate their sup¬ 
per. It was a gay party. After supper there 
were jokes and songs, and Dromas played 
upon his shepherd’s pipe, until the night 
came on and the moon showed her round 
face over the crest of the hills. 

Then Lycias, the oldest slave of all, be¬ 
gan to tell stories. He had seen the battle 
of Salamis, and he told how he had watched 
the Persian ships go down, one after an¬ 
other, before the victorious Greeks. “ And 
the King sat right on the high rocks north 
of the Piraeus and saw ’em go down,” he 
chuckled. “It was a great sight.” 

When Lycias had finished his story, 
Dromas told the tale of how the God Pan 
had appeared to a shepherd he knew, as he 
76 


was watching his sheep alone on the hills. 
“It’s all true,” he declared, as the story 
ended. “ I knew the man myself. All sorts 
of things happen when you 're out alone on 
the hillsides.” 

The fire, meanwhile, had died down to a 
heap of brands and gleaming coals, and 
Melas told the Twins to bring some wood 
to replenish it. They had been gone only a 
short time on this errand when the group 
around the fire was amazed to see them 
come darting back into the circle, all out of 
breath and with eyes as big as saucers. 

“What is it?” cried Lydia, springing to 
her feet. 

“We don’t know,” gasped Dion. “It’s 
big — and black —and there’s two of it. 
It’s right out by the brush-pile.” 

“ We were just going to get an armful 
of brush,” added Daphne, “when all of a 
sudden there it was — right beside us! We 
did n’t wait to see it any more. We just ran 
like everything! ” 

Lydia poked the coals into a blaze 
77 



and peered out into the surrounding dark¬ 
ness. 

“It was wolves, I’ll go bail,” cried Ly- 
cias, and he started at once to climb a tree. 
“ Wolves ! ” shrieked Chloe, and got be- 
78 



hind her mistress. The Twins were already 
holding to her skirts. 

“ Wolves! ” howled the slaves, “ a whole 
pack of them! ” and as there was nothing 
for them to climb, each hastily tried to get 
behind some one else. In the struggle Dro- 
mas got crowded back and sat down on a 
hot coal. He hadn’t many clothes on, so 
he got up very quickly, and the next howl 
he gave was not wholly on account of 
wolves. Only Lydia and Melas stood their 
ground beside the fire. Melas waved a 
burning brand in the air and shouted at the 
top of his lungs, “Fools! Rabbits! Don’t 
you know wolves won’t come near a fire ? ” 
but nothing soothed the frightened slaves. 
Something was coming, and if it was n’t 
wolves, they thought it was likely to be 
a worse creature. They could see two black 
figures bounding along in the moonlight, 
and behind them came a huge dog, barking 
with all his might. Bang into the row of 
cowering slaves they ran, and the biggest 
black thing roared “baa,” and the little one 
79 


bleated “maa,” right into Dromas’ ear. The 
“ whole pack of wolves ” was just the old 
black ewe and her little black lamb. Argos 
was chasing them and when he came tear¬ 
ing into the circle about the fire and saw the 
sheep safe with Dromas, he sat down pant¬ 
ing, with his tongue hanging out, and looked 
very much pleased with himself Dromas 
seized the lamb in his arms. 

“It’s a fine young ram,” he cried, “and 
it’s nothing short of a miracle that the 
wolves have n’t got it, and its mother too, 
long before this ! ” 

“ I always said that old ewe was be¬ 
witched,” quavered Lycias. “It’s magic, I 
say. And the lamb is as black as Erebus 
too. No good will come of this ! ” 

“ Come, come ! We must take them up to 
the farm-yard at once,” said Melas, “ before 
the old sheep takes it into her head to run 
away again. Dromas, you and Argos attend 
to her, and I ’ll carry the lamb myself” 

“ We will all go,” said Lydia. “ It is time 
for bed anyway.” So the remains of the feast 
8o 


were gathered up, the fire was put out, and 
the whole company trailed back over the 
hill to the farm-house, Melas at the head 
of the procession, carrying the lamb in his 
arms. When the old sheep was corraled 
once more with the flock, and the slaves had 
gone home to their huts, Melas came in from 
the farm-yard with the lamb. He seemed 
strangely excited. 

Light the fire on the hearth, wife,” he 
said to Lydia. “There’s something queer 
about this lamb.” 

Lydia uncovered the coals, laid on some 
wood, and blew the fire to a blaze. By its 
light Melas examined the lamb carefully. 
Then he said to Lydia, who stood near with 
the Twins, “This ram has but one horn!” 

“It can’t be!” gasped Lydia. “Whoever 
heard of a ram with only one horn?” 

“ Feel it,” said Melas briefly. Lydia felt it. 

“ By all the Gods,” she cried, “ here is a 
strange thing! ” 

“ Let us feel,” begged Dion and Daphne. 
They both felt. There was only one little 

8i 


budding horn to be found, and that was 
right in the middle of the lamb’s forehead. 

“ What does it mean ? ” cried Lydia. “ Is 
it a miracle? Is it a portent ? Does it mean 
good luck or bad luck?” 

“I don’t know,” said Melas. “Only a 
priest could tell that.” 

“ Then take it to a priest,” said Lydia. 

“ It is not my sheep,” said Melas. “ It 
belongs to Pericles.” 

“ Then you must take it to him and let 
him decide what shall be done with it,” 
cried Lydia. “And go soon, I beg of you. 
I don’t wish to have the creature in the 
house. It may be bewitched. It may bring 
all kinds of bad luck to us.” 

“ It is just as likely to bring good luck 
as bad,” said Melas. 

“ Is Father really going to take the lamb 
to Athens ? ” asked Dion. 

“Yes,” answered Melas, with surprising 
promptness, “ to-morrow.” 

“Oh,” cried Dion and Daphne at the 
same instant, ^'please let me go too.” 

82 


“ No,” said Lydia at once, but Melas 
said, “Not so fast, wife. Seek guidance of 
the Gods. The children would learn much 
from such a journey, and their chances for 
learning are few. We should be gone but 
two days, if the sea is calm.” 

Lydia was silent for a moment while the 
Twins stood by breathless with suspense. 
At last she said, “Well, — if the Gods so 
will, — we will seek an omen. You could 
spend the night at the house of my brother, 
Phaon, the stone-cutter, I suppose. I have 
seen him but seldom since he married his 
Athenian wife, but no doubt he would make 
you welcome for the night.” 

She rose slowly as she spoke, and threw 
a handful of grain upon the family altar, at 
the same time praying to Hermes, the God 
of travelers, for guidance. Then she ran 
round the court with her hands over her 
ears, and as she came back to the group 
beside the hearth, suddenly uncovered them 
again. The Twins were talking together in 
low tones. 


83 



“Oh, do you suppose they will let me 
go?” Daphne was saying to Dion, and 
just at that moment Lydia took her hands 
from her ears. “Go” was the first word t>- 
she heard. 

“ The omen is favorable,” cried Lydia. 

84 








“You are to go! I prayed to Hermes, 
then closed my ears, well knowing that the 
first word I should hear when I uncovered 
them would be the answer to my prayer. 
That word was ‘Go.’ Hasten to bed, my 
children, for you must make an early start 
to-morrow.” 

Daphne could scarcely believe her ears. 
Not a word had been said about her stay¬ 
ing at home because she was a girl! She 
flew upstairs to bed lest some one should 
suddenly think of it. 




» 




/ • 

I 



V 

THE TWINS GO TO ATHENS 







4 


) 





V 

THE TWINS GO TO ATHENS 

In the gray dawn of the following morning 
Lydia stood in the doorway of her house 
and watched the three figures disappear 
down the road toward the little seaport 
town of Ambelaca. Melas walked ahead, 
carrying the lamb wrapped in his cloak, 
and the Twins followed, bearing between 
them a basket in which Lydia had care¬ 
fully packed two dressed fowls, some fresh 
eggs, and a cheese, to be taken to the home 
of Pericles, besides bread and cheese for 
Melas and the children. The Twins were 
so excited they would have danced along 
the road instead of walking if it had n’t been 
for the basket, but every time Daphne got 
too lively, Dion said, ‘ ‘ Remember the eggs, 
and every time Dion forgot and skipped. 
Daphne said the same thing to him. 

89 


They had gone nearly a mile in this way, 
when the road took them to the crest of a 
hill, from the top of which it seemed as if 
they could see the whole world. Just be¬ 
low them lay the little seaport town of 
Ambelaca, and beyond it the blue waters 
of the bay sparkled and danced in the 
morning breeze. On the farther side of the 
bay they could see the white buildings of 
the Piraeus, and beyond that in the dis¬ 
tance was a chain of blue mountains over 
which the sun was just peeping. That sight 
was so beautiful that the children set down 
their basket, and Melas too stood still to 
gaze. 

“Those blue mountains beyond the Pi¬ 
raeus are the hills of Athens,” said Melas. 
“The one with the flat top is the sacred 
hill of the Acropolis. And right down 
there,” he added, pointing to a white house 
on a near-by hill-top, overlooking the sea', 
“is the house of Euripides, the Poet. He 
has come from the noise and confusion of the 
city to find a quiet refuge upon Salamis.” 

90 


‘‘Does he write real poetry?*^ asked 
Daphne. 

“They say he does,” answered Melas, 
“though I never read any of it myself.” 

“I wish I could write," sighed Daphne, 
“ even if it was n’t poetry ! Even if it were 
only curses to hang around a scarecrow’s 
neck. I’d like to write ! ” 

“ Girls don’t need to know how to 
write,” said Melas. “It does n’t make them 
any better housekeepers. I don’t even see 
how Dion is going to learn. There are no 
schools in Salamis.” 

“Oh dear!” thought Daphne, “there it 
is again.” But she said nothing and fol¬ 
lowed Melas down the hill and into the vil¬ 
lage street. 

Soon they found themselves at the dock 
where the boat was tied. There were al¬ 
ready passengers on board when the Twins 
and their Father arrived. There were two 
farmers with baskets of eggs and vegeta¬ 
bles, and there was an old woman with a 
large bundle of bread. Next to her sat a 

91 



fisherman with.a basket of eels. They were 
all going to the market in the Piraeus to 
sell their produce. Melas with the lamb in 
his arms climbed in beside one of the 
farmers and sat facing the fisherman. Dion 
sat next to him witli the basket on his 
knee, and Daphne had to sit beside the 
fisherman and the eels, 'yie eels squirmed 
frightfully, and Daphne squirmed too every 
time she looked at them. She was afraid 
one might get out and wrap itself around 
her legs. They did look so horribly like 
92 






snakes, and Daphne felt about snakes just 
as most girls do. However, she knew it 
was useless to say anything. There was no 
other seat for her, and so she remembered 
that she was a Spartan and tried not to 
look at them. 

When they were all seated, the rowers 
took their places on the rowing-benches, the 
captain gave the signal, and off they went 
over the blue waters toward the distant 
shore. Fora time everything went smoothly. 
There was no sound but the rattling of the 
oarlocks, the chant of the rowers as *they 
dipped their oars, and the rippling of the 
water against the sides of the boat. Up to 
this time the black lamb had lain quietly 
in Melas’ arms, but now something seemed 
to disturb him. He lifted his head, gave a 
sudden bleat, and somehow flung himself 
out of Melas’ arms directly into the,basket 
of eels! Such a squirming as there was 
then! The eels squirmed, and the lamb 
squirmed, and if his legs had not been se¬ 
curely tied together he undoubtedly would 
93 


have flopped right into the water, and then 
this story would never have been written. 

The fisherman gave an angry roar. 
“Keep your miserable lamb out of my eel 
basket,” he shouted. 

Melas had not waited to be told. He had 
already seized the lamb, but it struggled hard 
to get away, and between the lamb and the 
eels there was a disturbance that threatened 
to upset the boat. 

“Sit still,” roared the captain. “Have 
you no sense ? Do you all want to go to the 
bottom ? ” 

“ May Poseidon defend us! ” cried the old 
woman with the bread. “ I’ve no wish to be 
made into eel-bait.” 

“Nor I,” said one of the farmers angrily. 
“You’d better kill your lambs before you 
take them to market,” he said to Melas; “ it 
will be safer for the rest of us.” 

“The lamb is not for market,” Melas an¬ 
swered. “I would not dare kill it. It bears 
a portent on its brow!” 

“A portent?” gasped the old woman. 

94 


“ May all the Gods defend us! What por¬ 
tent?” 

Melas pointed to the horn. “ It has but 
one horn,” he said. 

They all became still at once. They all 
looked at the lamb. They all felt of his 
horn. Their eyes grew big. 

“There was never such a thing known,” 
said the farmef. 

“Whose is the lamb?” asked another. 
“ Is it yours ?” 

“No,” said Melas, “it belongs to Per¬ 
icles the Archon. It was born on his farm. 
I am taking it to him so that he may decide 
what to do with it.” 

“A portent on the farm of Pericles?” 
cried the old woman. “ I ’ll warrant it will be 
read as favoring him, since he already has a 
world at his feet. Maythe Gods forgive me, 
but it seems to me they are often more par¬ 
tial than just.” 

“ Hush, woman,” said one of the farmers. 
“ Speak no ill of the Gods, not until we are 
safe onThe land at any rate.” 

. 95 


The woman snapped her mouth shut. The 
farmers and the fisherman settled themselves 
as far away as possible from the Twins and 
Melas, and nothing more was said until the 
boat touched the other shore, and all the 
passengers scrambled out upon the dock. 
The farmers and the fisherman and the old 
woman all hastened away to the market¬ 
place, and when they reached it, they must 
have kept their tongues busy, for as Melas 
and the Twins passed through it on their 
way to Athens a few moments later, they 
were followed by a crowd of curious people 
who wanted to see the lamb and who had 
a great deal to say about what such a mir¬ 
acle might mean. 

Melas paid little attention to them, but 
hastened on his way, and soon they reached 
the eastern edge of the town and started 
along the paved road which ran from the 
Piraeus to Athens proper. This road was 
nearly five miles long and ran between two 
high walls of stone some distance apart. 
The curious crowd left them at this point 
96 


and the three walked on alone through olive 
orchards and past little vineyards, toward 
Athens. 

“Nobody could get lost on this road,” 
said Dion to his Father, “not even if he 
tried ! He could n’t get over the walls.” 

“ What are the walls for ? ” asked Daphne. 

“ It seems silly to build high walls like this 
right out in the country.” 

“Not so silly when you think about it,” 
answered Melas. “ These walls were built 
by Pericles, so that if any enemy should 
make an invasion, Athens would always 
have a safe access to the sea. Without that 
she could be starved within her own walls 
in a very short time.” 

“Pericles must be almost as powerful 
and wise as the Gods themselves, I should 
think,” said Daphne. 

“He does all these things by the help of 
the Gods, without doubt,” said Melas. 

When they were halfway on their jour- ' 
ney to the city, Dion suddenly let down his 
side of the basket with a thump. 

97 


“ Remember the eggs! ” cried Daphne 
sharply, but Dion did not seem to hear. 

“Look! Look!” he cried and pointed 
toward the east. There against the sky, on 
the top of the sacred mountain, stood a gi¬ 
gantic figure shining in the sun. 

“What is it? ” cried both children at once. 

“That is the bronze statue of Athena, the 
Goddess who gives protection to Athens,” 
said Melas. 

“Did Pericles make that too?” asked 
Daphne. 

Melas laughed. “No,” he said; “you 
must not think Pericles made everything 
you may see in Athens. Great'as he is, he 
is not a sculptor.” 

“Oh, oh,” cried Dion, “I want to see 
the Gorgon’s head with snaky locks. Don’t 
you remember the Stranger said it was on 
the breastplate of the statue?” 

“Ugh,” said Daphne, shuddering. “I 
don’t believe I’d like it. It must look just 
like eels.” 

“ Come, come,” said Melas. “ At this rate 

- . ' 98 


you won’t have a chance. The day will be 
gone before we know it.” 

The Twins picked up the basket, and the 
three marched on toward the city, and it 
was not long before they had entered the 
gate and were passing along closely built- 
up streets to the home of the greatest man 
in Athens. 

“ This is the place,” said Melas at last, 
stopping at one of the houses. 

“This is n’t Pericles’ house, is it?” cried 
Daphne. “ Why, I thought it would be the 
biggest house in Athens, and it looks just 
like the others.” 

“Pericles does not put on much style,” 
said Melas, as he lifted the knocker on the 
door. “ He is too great to need display. He 
cares more about fine public buildings for 
the city than about making his neigh¬ 
bors envious by living better than they do. 
Just get the idea out of your head that 
greatness means wealth and luxury, or 
you are no true Spartans, nor even good 
Athenians.” 


99 














As he said this, Melas let the knocker 
fall. The door was immediately opened by 
a porter, who looked surprised when he saw 
Melas and the Twins. 

“What brings you in frpm the farm?” 
he said. 

“I wish to see your mistress, the wife of 
Pericles,” said Melas, with dignity. “ I have 
business of importance.” 

“ Come in, come in,” said the porter, 
grinning good-naturedly; “and you, too, lit¬ 
tle boys,” he added graciously to the Twins, 
and led the way into the house. Dion was 
just opening his mouth to explain that 
Daphne was n’t a boy, but Daphne poked 
him in the ribs and shook her head at him. 
“Let him think so,” she said, jerking her 
chiton up shorter through her girdle. 

They were ushered through a passage¬ 
way into the court of the house, and there 
the porter left them while he went to call 
his mistress. The house, though little dif¬ 
ferent from the other houses of well-to-do 
Athenians, was still much finer than any- 


lOI 


thing the Twins had ever seen. The floor 
was of marble, and the altar of Zeus which 
stood in, the center of the court was beau¬ 
tifully carved. The doorways which opened 
into the various rooms of the house were 
hung with blue curtains. A room opening 
into the court at the back had a hearth-fire 
in the middle of it, much like that in the 
children’s own home. Soon a door in the 
back of the house opened, and Telesippe, 
the wife of Pericles, appeared. She was a 
large coarse-looking woman, and with her 
were three boys, her own two and Alcibi- 
ades, a handsome lad, who was a ward of 
Pericles and a member of his family. 

Melas approached her and opened his 
cloak. 

“Why, Melas, what have you there?” 
cried Telesippe in amazement, as she saw 
the little black ram. 

“A portent. Madam,” said Melas with 
solemnity. “ This ram, born on your hus- 
bahd’s farm, is a prodigy. It has but one 
horn. I have brought it to you, that the 


102 


omen might be interpreted, I trust it may 
prove a favorable one.” 

Telesippe looked at the lamb and turned 
pale. She struck her hands together. The 
porter and another slave at once appeared. 

“Go to the temple and bring Tampon, 
the priest,” she said to the slave; and to 
the porter she added, “and you, the mo¬ 
ment the priest arrives, call your master.” 

The slave instantly disappeared, and the 
porter went back to his post by the en¬ 
trance. Although Telesippe was evidently 
disturbed and anxious about the portent, 
she now turned her attention to the basket, 
which Dion and Daphne had placed before 
her, and when their luncheon had been taken 
out, she called a slave woman and gave 
the fowl and the eggs and cheese into her 
care. 

The three boys, meanwhile, crowded 
around Melas and the lamb and asked 
questions of all sorts about it and about 
the farm. It seemed but a short time when 
the porter opened the door once more and 
103 


ushered in the priest. The Twins had never 
seen a priest, since there were none on the 
island, and they looked with awe upon this 
man who could read omens and interpret 
dreams. He was a tall, spare man with 
piercing dark eyes. He was dressed in a 
long white robe, and wore a wreath of laurel 
upon his brow, and his black hair fell over 
his neck in long, straggling locks. 

No sooner had he entered the court and 
taken his place beside the altar than the 
blue curtains of a door at the right parted 
and a tall noble-looking man entered the 
room. Dion and Daphne knew at once 
that it must be Pericles. No other, man, 
they thought, could look so majestic. Their 
knees shook under them, and they felt just 
as you would feel if you were suddenly to 
meet the President of the United States. 
Pericles was not alone. A man also tall,' 
and wearing a long white cloak, followed 
him through the curtains and joined the 
group about the altar. 

“ The Stranger! ” gasped Daphne to Dion 

104 


in a whisper. “ Don't you remember ? He 
said he knew Pericles! ” 

The Stranger spoke to Melas and laid 
his hand playfully upon the heads of the 
Twins. 

“ These are old friends of mine,” he said 
to Pericles. “ I stayed at their house one 
night last spring.” 

Pericles had already greeted the priest. 
Now he smiled pleasantly at the children, 
and spoke to Melas. 

“ I hear a miracle has occurred on my 
farm,” he said. 

For answer Melas showed the lamb, 
which now began to jump and wriggle in 
his arms. 

“ There can be no doubt that the portent 
concerns the Great Archon,” said the priest 
solemnly. “ See how the ram leaps the mo¬ 
ment he appears! ” 

Pericles beckoned to the Stranger. “What 
do you think of this, Anaxagoras?” he said, 
smiling. 

“ I am no soothsayer,” answered the 
los 


Stranger, smiling too. “The priest is the 
one to expound the riddle.” 

Lampon now came forward, and, with an 
air of importance, pulled a few hairs from 
the lamb’s fleece, and laid them upon the 
live coals of the altar. He watched the hair 
io6 







curl up as it burned and bent his ear to 
listen. “ It burns with a crackling sound,” 
he said; “the omen is therefore favorable 
to your house, O Pericles. Instead of two 
horns, the animal has but one! Instead of 
two factions in Athens, one favorable to 
Pericles, one opposed, there will henceforth 
be but one! All the city Will unite under 
the leadership of Pericles the Olympian.” 

“The Gods be praised!” exclaimed Tele- 
sippe, with fervor. 

The priest clapped his hands and bowed 
his head, and Dion saw him peer cautiously 
through the tangled locks which fell over 
his face to see how Pericles had taken this 
prophecy. The Great Archon was stand¬ 
ing quietly beside Anaxagoras, and neither 
one gave any sign of being impressed by 
the oracle. The priest scowled under his 
wreath. 

“What shall be done with the ram?” 
asked Telesippe, when Lampon again lifted 
his head. 

“ Let it be sent to the temple as an offer- 
107 


ing. Since it is black it must be sacrificed 
to the Gods of the lower world,” answered 
the priest. 

Telesippe at once called a slave. Melas 
gave the ram into his hands; the priest re¬ 
ceived a present of money from Pericles, 
and, followed by the slave with the ram, 
disappeared through the doorway. 

“ You did well to bring the ram to me 
at once,” said Pericles to Melas when the 
door closed behind the priest. “ Take this 
present for your pains,” and he placed a 
gold-piece in Melas’ hand. “And these 
little boys,” he added, smiling pleasantly 
at the Twins, “they too have done their 
share in bringing the portent. They must 
have a reward as well.” He gave them 
each a coin, and, when he had received 
their thanks, at once left the house, followed 
by Anaxagoras. The Twins and Melas 
then said good-bye to Telesippe and the 
bo_ys and took their leave. 

When they turned the corner into the 
next street, Melas said with a sigh, “ There, 

io8 



that’s off my mind. And 1 hope there will 
be ho rpore miracles for a while.” 

“ If it would jake us to the house of Per¬ 
icles every timb, I’d like them at least once 
109 







a week! ” cried Dion, looking longingly at 
the coin Pericles had given him. 

“So would I,” Daphne added fervently. 
“Even if Pericles didn’t give us anything 
at all, I’d come to Athens just to look at 
him ! He looks just like the Gods. I know 
he does.” 

Melas laughed. “You’re just like the 
Athenians,” he said. “ They call him the 
Olympian because they feel the same way 
about him. Give me your coins,” he added. 
“ I will put them in my purse for safe¬ 
keeping.” 

“Anyway,” said Daphne, as she and 
Dion gave their Father the money, “ I’m 
glad the portent was favorable to Pericles. 
The old woman on the boat was right. She 
said it would be.” 


VI 

THE FESTIVAL OF ATHENA 


/ 







4 













VI 

THE FESTIVAL OF ATHENA 


The day had begun so early that it was 
still morning when Melas and the Twins 
left the house of Pericles and took their way 
toward the Agora, which was the business 
and social center of Athens. Here were the 
markets where everything necessary to the 
daily life of the Athenians was sold. The 
Twins had never dreamed there were so 
many things to be found in the world. Not 
only were there fruits, meats, fish, vegeta¬ 
bles, and flowers, but there were stalls filled 
with beautiful pottery or with dyed and em¬ 
broidered garments gorgeous in color, and 
even with books. The books were not bound 
^s ours are. They were written on rolls of 
parchment aqd were piled up in the stalls 
like sticks of wood. Around the market¬ 
place there were arcades supported by mar- 
^^3 


ble columns, and ornamented by rows of 
bronze statues. In the center stood a mag¬ 
nificent altar to the twelve Gods of Olympus, 
whom the people of Hellas believed to be 
the greatest of their many Gods. There were 
temples opening on the Agora, and beyond 
the temples there were the hills of Athens, 
with the Sacred Mount of the Acropolis, 
the holiest of all holy places, bounding it on 
the south. 

Melas had seen all these sights before, but 
to the Twins it was like stepping right into 
the middle of an enchanted world. Melas 
took them each by the hand, and found an 
out-of-the-way corner near a stall where 
young girls were selling wreaths, and there 
they ate their luncheon, while they watched 
the people swarming about them. 

The flowers-sellers, the bread-women, 
and some flute-girls were almost the only 
women in sight, but the whole Agora was 
full of men. There were fathers of families 
buying provisions for the day. Each was 
followed by a slave with a basket, for no 
114 


Athenian gentleman would carry his own 
packages. There were always slaves to do 
that. There were grave men in long cloak¬ 
like garments with fillets around their heads 
w'ho walked back and forth talking together. 
There were boys, followed by their “ ped¬ 
agogues," old slaves who carried their books 
for them, and saw to it that their young 
charges got into as little mischief as possi¬ 
ble, as they went about the streets. 

Suddenly at some signal which neither 
Melas nor the Twins saw, the whole crowd 
began to move toward the south. 

“Where are they going?” asked Dion. 

“ Listen to that little Spartan savage,” 
said one of the wreath-sellers, laughing. 
“ He does n’t even know it’s the regular 
festival of Athena. Run along, bumpkin, 
and see the sights.” 

Melas gave the girl a black look. He 
did n’t like to have Dion called a “Spartan 
savage,” nor a “bumpkin” either, but he 
knew very well Spartans might expect scant 
courtesy in Athens, so he said nothing, but 
”5 


he rose from his corner at once and, telling 
the children to follow, started after the 
crowd. 

They reached the steep incline which led 
up to the Acropolis, and, still following the 
crowd, had gone part way to the summit, 
when there was a mighty pushing and jost¬ 
ling among the people, and loud voices 
cried, “ Make way for the sacred proces¬ 
sion.” The crowd parted, and Melas and 
the Twins were pushed back toward one 
side, but as they were lucky enough to 
be on the border of the crowd, instead 
of being pressed farther back, they were 
able to see the sacred procession of the 
Goddess Athena as it mounted the long 
slope and disappeared through the great 
gate. 

In one of the oldest temples on the Acrop¬ 
olis, called the Erechtheum, there was an 
ancient wooden statue of Athena which the 
Athenians believed had fallen from heaven. 
It was very sacred in their eyes, and every 
year they celebrated a festival when the 

ii6 


robes and ornaments of the statue were taken 
off and cleaned. This year the maidens of 
Athens had embroidered a new and beau¬ 
tiful robe, and it was being carried in state 
to the temple to be offered to the Goddess 
and placed upon her statue. 

The Twins had never seen so many peo¬ 
ple in all their lives before. The procession 
was headed by some of the chief men of 
Athens, and foremost among them the chil¬ 
dren recognized Pericles. Near him walked 
Anaxagoras the Philosopher, with Phidias, 
the great sculptor, and Ictinus, the architect 
of the new temple of which the Stranger 
had told the Twins on the spring evening 
so long before. There were also Sophocles 
the dramatist and Euripides the poet. Melas 
recognized them all, for they were known to 
every one and he had seen them at the house 
of Pericles or walking about the Agora on 
previous journeys. He pointed them out to 
the Twins. 

“ That queer snub-nosed man back of 
Sophocles is Socrates the philosopher,” he 
117 


said. “ He is a friend of Pericles also, though 
he is poor and queer, and is always stand¬ 
ing about the market-place talking to any 
one who will listen to him.” 

“ Are there two philosophers in Athens?” 
asked Dion. “ I thought Anaxagoras was the 
philosopher.” 

Melas laughed. “Philosophers are as 
thick in Athens as bees in a hive,” he said, 
“and poets too.” 

The beautiful embroidered robe, borne on 
a chariot shaped like a ship, now appeared 
in the procession, and the crowd breathed 
a long sigh of wonder and admiration as it 
passed. Then came a long row of young 
girls bearing baskets and jars upon their 
shoulders. They were followed by older 
women, for women were allowed to take 
part in this festival. After them came youths 
on horseback, and then more youths lead¬ 
ing garlanded oxen for the sacrifice. The 
procession was so long that the end of it 
was still winding through the streets below 
some time after the head had reached the 

ii8 


top of the incline. Right up the steep slope 
it streamed, between the gaping crowds 
massed on either side, and when the very 
end of it had passed out of sight, the people 
closed in behind it and swarmed over the 
level height of the sacred hill. 

Melas and the children pushed their way 
with the others, but the crowd was so 
great and the movement so slow that when 
at last they got near the sacred altars 
before the Erechtheum, the ceremonies 
were over and the air was already filled 
with smoke and the smell of roasting 
meat. 

It was late afternoon before the feasting 
was over, and, meanwhile, the entire hill-top 
of the Acropolis was covered with moving 
crowds. As a part of the festival, there were 
all sorts of games and. side shows. Dion 
and Daphne were so busy watching sword- 
swallowers, and tumblers, and men per¬ 
forming all sorts of strange and wonderful 
tricks, they almost forgot entirely the Gor¬ 
gon’s head with the snaky locks, which the 
119 


Stranger had told them about, and which 
Dion so much wished to see. Daphne was 
the first to remember it. 

“ I’m going to see the new temple 
that Pericles is building over there. Don’t 
you want to see it, too ? ” said Melas to 
the Twins. “Where?” said Dion. Melas 
pointed to a great heap of marble blocks 
toward the southern side of the Acropolis. 
It was then that Daphne thought about the 
statue. 

“Dion wants to see the Gorgon’s head,” 
she said. 

“Well, then,” answered Melas, “hurry 
up about it, for it is getting late and we 
must soon be starting for your uncle’s 
house.” 

The two children trotted away toward 
the great bronze statue near the entrance 
without another word, and it was not until 
they were quite out of sight that Melas re¬ 
membered he had not told them where to 
meet him. 

“ I shall find them by the statue anyway,” 


120 



he said to himself, and went on examining 
the foundations of the Parthenon. 

Meanwhile the children ran round to the 
front of the statue and gazed up at the breast¬ 
plate of the Goddess, upon which Phidias 

I2I 















had carved the Gorgon's head. There it 
was with its staring eyes and twisting locks, 
looking right down at them. 

“ Ugh! I don’t like it a bit better than 
I thought I should,” said Daphne, covering 
her eyes. “ It’s worse than eels.” 

‘T’d rather see the man swallowing 
swords any day,” answered Dion. “Let’s 
go and see if we can’t find him again,” and 
off they went toward a crowd of people 
gathered about a little booth beyond the 
Erechtheum. 

It was not until they had seen him swal¬ 
low swords twice and eat fire once, and the 
conjurer had begun to pack his things to go 
away that the Twins thought at all about 
time. When at last they woke up to the fact 
that the sun was setting behind the purple 
hills, and looked about them, there were 
very few people left on the Acropolis, and 
their Father was nowhere to be seen. The 
two children ran as fast as they could go to 
the place where the Parthenon was building, 
but there was no one there. Even the work- 


122 


men had gone. Then they ran back and 
looked down the long incline up which the 
procession had come in the morning, but 
Melas was not to be seen. The Twins re¬ 
turned to the statue of Athena, but no one 
awaited them there. The Gorgon’s head 
looked down at them with its dreadful star¬ 
ing eyes, and Daphne thought she saw one 
of the snaky locks move. 

“ Oh, let’s run,” she cried. 

“Where?” asked Dion. 

“I don’t know,” said Daphne. “Any¬ 
where away from here! Let’s go back to 
the Erechtheum. Perhaps Father will be 
there looking for us.” 

They went all round the old temple, which 
was partly in ruins, and when they found 
no trace of their Father, sat down miserably 
upon the steps of the great porch of the 
Maidens on the southern side. It was called 
the Porch of the Maidens because, instead 
of columns of marble, statues of beautiful 
maidens supported the roof. Daphne looked 
up at them. 


123 


1 

' A 



“They look strong, like Mother,” she 
said. “ It does n’t seem quite so lonesome 
here with them. Maybe we shall have to 
stay here all night.” 

“Don’t you think we could find Uncle 
Phaon’s house by ourselves?” asked Dion. 

“ Oh,” cried Daphne, shuddering, “never! 
We could n’t even by daylight, and now it 
is almost dark.” 

“ Anyway,” said Dion, “ we ’re safer be- 
124 


I 




ing lost here than anywhere else in Athens. 
It’s where the Gods live. Maybe they’ll 
take care of us.” 

“ We might sacrifice something on an 
altar,” said Daphne, “and pray, the way 
Father does.” 

“We haven’t a thing to sacrifice,” an¬ 
swered Dion. “We haven’t anything to 
eat even for ourselves.” 

They were so tired and hungry and dis¬ 
couraged by this time that they did n’t say 
another word. They just sat still in the gath¬ 
ering darkness, and wished with all their 
hearts that they had never come to Athens 
at all. 

They were startled by hearing footsteps 
above them on the porch. The stone bal¬ 
ustrade was so high, and the children were 
crouched so far below it near the ground, 
that they could not be seen by peo¬ 
ple above unless they should lean over 
the balustrade and look down. The twins 
snuggled closer together in the darkness 
and kept very still. Suddenly they heard 

125 


voices above them; there were two men 
on the porch talking together in low 
tones. One was the voice of Lampon the 
priest; the children both recognized it at 
once. 

“ Look over there,” it was saying. “ Peri¬ 
cles is building new temples in Athens, to 
the dishonor and neglect of the oldest and 
most sacred of all. Pericles does not fear the 
Gods, even though they have raised him to 
his proud position. He is a traitor to our 
holy office, and I hate him.” 

“You speak strongly,” said the other 
voice. 

“ It is n’t only that he neglects the old 
temples and refuses to restore them, but he 
actually builds a new one before our eyes 
on this holy hill,” went on the voice of 
Lampon. “ It is not only an impiety in it¬ 
self, but an affront to you and your holy 
office. I myself saw his scorn and indif¬ 
ference this very day. I was called to 
his house by his pious wife to see a pro¬ 
digy. A ram was brought from his country 
126 


estate that had but one horn, — a marvel, 
truly I ” 

“ How did you read the portent?” asked 
the other voice. 

“As favorable to him, of course,” an¬ 
swered Lampon. “ What else could I do 
with Pericles himself watching me, and 
with that old fox of an Anaxagoras by his 
side ? ” 

“The Gods punish people who do not 
believe in them,” said the other voice, “and 
we are the priests of the Gods. Should we 
not do all we can to bring such wicked men 
to justice?” 

“Yes, but,” said Lampon, “the people 
adore Pericles. They would not believe 
evil of him. We must act carefully, lest we 
ourselves receive the blow that we aim at 
him.” 

“ I have found out that he went to the 
boat-race at the Piraeus this afternoon,” an¬ 
swered the voice of the other priest, “and 
after that he goes to a banquet at the house 
of the rich Hipponicus, and will return late 
127 


to his home. If we could waylay him and 
make him angry, he might say something 
blasphemous to us, not knowing we were 
priests. He might even offer us violence! 
Disrespect to a priest is disrespect to the 
Gods, and no man in Athens, not even 
Pericles, can insult the representatives of 
the Gods and live.” 

“A good idea, truly, and worthy of the 
priest of Erechtheus,” said the voice of 
Lampon. 

“We will doff our priestly robes and ap¬ 
pear as men of the people. Pericles must 
not suspect who we are, or of course he will 
be too clever to allow himself to speak the 
insults we know only too well he would like 
to offer us as priests. We can each be wit¬ 
ness for the other, and he cannot deny our 
report.” 

If Daphne had not sneezed just at this 
moment, everything that happened after 
that would almost surely have been quite 
different. But she did sneeze! The air was 
damp and chill, she was sitting on a cold 
128 


stone step, and a loud “kerchoo’' suddenly 
startled the two plotters on the porch. The 
children were so frightened they could not 
129 





move, but they rolled up their eyes, and 
over the edge of the balustrade they saw 
two shadowy heads looking down at them. 

“ Who’s there ? ” said the voice of Lam- 
pon. 

The children were too frightened to an¬ 
swer. 

“ Bring a torch,” cried the voice of the 
other priest, and soon the two heads were 
again hanging over the balustrade and a 
torch in the hand of Tampon threw light 
on the upturned faces of the Twins. 

“Who are you?” said the priest of the 
Erechtheum, “ and what are you doing here 
at this hour, you miserable little spies?” 

“ Oh, please, we are n’t spies at all,” cried 
Dion. He did n’t know what a spy was, but 
he thought it safe to say he was n’t one. 
“We are lost.” 

“ Come up here at once.” It was Tampon 
who spoke. 

The children, half dead with terror, went 
round to the other side of the porch, climbed 
the steps to the entrance, and stood trem- 
130 


bling before the priests. Lampon lifted his 
torch and looked at them carefully. 

“ Did n’t I see you this morning at the 
house of Pericles?” he asked sternly. The 
Twins nodded. 

“Who sent you here?” he asked. 

“Nobody sent us. We’re lost,” cried 
poor Daphne. 

“ Humph! ” said the other priest. “That's 
a likely story.” 

“ Did you hear what we were talking 
about?” asked Lampon. He took Dion by 
the shoulder, and as he did not answer at 
once, shook him. 

“ Come, yes or no,” he said. 

“Ye-e-es,” stammered Dion. 

The two priests looked at each other, 
and Lampon said : “ They are the children 
of the farmer who brought the lamb to 
Pericles. They live on his farm.” 

“ It will be a long time before they see 
the farm again,” answered the other shortly. 
“They say they are lost. Very well, we 
will see to it that those words are made 


true. What do you say to shipping them 
to Africa ? They would make a pretty pair 
of slaves, and a ship sails for Alexandria 
to-morrow. It can easily be arranged. I 
know the captain.” 

“A good idea!” said Tampon. “Since 
these children are in a sense wards of 
Pericles, they are for that reason the more 
likely to be enemies of the Gods. It would 
be an act of piety to send them where they 
could do no harm by betraying the secrets 
of the temple.” 

The children were speechless with fright. 
Their two captors pushed them roughly 
before them into the temple and drove them 
through the great gloomy interior, lighted 
only by a few torches, to a small closet-like 
room somewhere in the rear. As they 
walked, huge black shadows cast by the 
torch of Tampon danced grotesquely be¬ 
fore them. At the closet the two priests 
stopped to unlock the door. 

“ Here is a safe harbor for you for the 
night,” said Tampon, as he pushed the 
132 



children into the closet. “To-morrow we 
may find a yet safer place for you,” and 
with these words he locked them in. 

The children were so exhausted by hun¬ 
ger and fright that, even though they were 
Spartans, they sat down on the cold stone 
floor and wept in each other s arms. 

“ Oh, Mother, Mother,” sobbed Daphne, 
“why did we ever leave you?” 

“Dpnhyou remember,” said Dion, strug- 

133 


gling with his tears, “that the signs were 
favorable ? It must be all right somehow, 
for the word Mother heard was ‘ Go.’ ” 

“If I only hadn’t sneezed!" sobbed 
Daphne. 

“ But a sneeze is always a good sign,” 
said Dion. 

“Well, anyway,” said Daphne bravely, 
though her voice shook and her teeth chat¬ 
tered, “crying won’t do any good. Let’s 
feel around and see if there is anything in 
this room.” 

It was dark, except for a gray patch of 
dim light from a window high up in the 
wall. Dion and Daphne kept close together 
and went carefully round the room, feeling 
the wall with their hands. Dion stumbled 
against something. It was a chest where 
the priests’ robes were kept. 

“Do you suppose we could move it?” 
whispered Daphne. “ If we could, maybe 
we could look out of the window and see 
where we are.” 

They both got on the same side of it 
G4 



and pushed with all their strength. The 
chest moved a little and made a horrible 
screeching sound on the stone floor. 

“Sh-sh-sh,” whispered Daphne, as if 
the chest could hear. They held their breath 
to listen for footsteps. There was no sound 
outside. They waited a little while and 
pushed again. Again the chest screeched, 
and again they stopped to listen. After 
many such efforts it was finally moved un¬ 
der the window, and the two sprang up on 

135 







the top of it to look out. By standing on 
tiptoe they could just see over the sill. 
There was no glass, for there was no win¬ 
dow-glass anywhere at that time, and the 
cool night air blew in on their faces. The 
Acropolis was bathed in moonlight. There 
was no sound outside, and lio one in sight 
anywhere. Apparently the world was asleep. 
Suddenly the stillness was broken by the 
hoot of an owl, and they could see the 
great bird flying toward them. 

“It’s Athena’s own bird,” whispered 
Dion, “and it’s flying from the east. That 
means good luck. Oh, maybe we can 
get away from this dreadful place after 
all! ” 

“ Let’s pray to Athena,” quavered 
Daphne. “We can’t sacrifice, but maybe 
she ’ll hear us just the same.” 

The two little prisoners spread their hands 
toward the sky, and Dion whispered, “ Help 
us, O Athena, just the way you helped Per¬ 
seus kill the Gorgon.” 

“ Give us wisdom to get out of this place 
136 



and to save Pericles from these wicked 
men,” added Daphne. 

137 


V ! 




“Sh-sh,” whispered Dion, “they’re 
priests.” 

“They are wicked, anyway, whatever 
they are, to want to kill Pericles,” said 
Daphne stoutly. Then she added: “May¬ 
be that’s why we ’re here! Maybe we could 
warn him about the priests if we could just 
get out. Anyway, we ’re Spartans, and we ’ve 
got to stop crying and do our best.” 

Dion put his hands on the window-sill 
and gave a jump. 

“I believe I could get up here if you’d 
give me a boost,” he said. 

“ But how shall I getup ? ” asked Daphne. 
“There ’ll be nobody to boost me.” 

“I ’ll pull you,” said Dion. 

“You might fall out backwards, or fall in 
head first doing it,” said Daphne. 

“ Let’s try, anyway,” said Dion. 

Daphne boosted, and Dion climbed, and 
in another minute he was sitting on the 
window-sill with one foot hanging down 
outside and the other firmly braced against 
the side of the window. He held on with 
138 


his left hand and, leaning over, was able 
with his right to clasp Daphne. She hooked 
her left arm on his, put her hand on the 
sill and leaped. The next instant she was 
lying on her stomach over the sill, and 
Dion was helping her to a sitting position. 

“ It is n’t so very far to drop,” whispered 

139 





Dion. “ I Ve dropped from the balustrade 
into the court lots of times at home.” 

“All right,” said Daphne. “You drop 
first, and I ’ll follow.” 

Dion turned, stuck his head out as far as 
possible, and looked in every direction. 
Then he let himself down from the sill, 
hung to it for a moment by his hands, and 
dropped like a cat to the ground. He flat¬ 
tened himself against the wall of the temple, 
and in another moment Daphne was safe 
beside him. 

“ Now,” whispered Dion, “we ’ll run like 
everything around behind the temple to the 
statue of Athena.” 

Hand in hand through the moonlight 
they sped, and were soon in the shadow of 
the great bronze statue. 

“ Let’s wait here a minute and look 
around,” whispered.Dion. 

They crouched down in the shadow and 
looked back. Their hearts almost stopped 
beating when they saw two cloaked figures 
emerge from the temple, and they recog- 
1^0 


nized Lampon and the priest of the Erech- 
theum. The two men passed so near the 
statue that the children could plainly hear 
their voices, though they spoke in low tones. 

“We will wait at the head of the street 
of the Amphorae,” they heard Lampon say. 
“ He is sure to pass that way. It will relieve 
my tongue to tell him some things in the 
guise of a common ruffian which I could 
not say as a priest.” 

141 



“ You did well to recognize those brats,” 
said the priest of the Erechtheum. “They 
might have upset all our plans if we had not 
kept them safe.” 

The two brats behind the statue shook 
their fists at the retreating figures. They 
waited until the sound of footsteps had died 
away, and then they made a quick dash 
from the shadow and flew down the incline 
up which the procession had come in the 
morning. In a moment they were at the 
bottom. They could just see the dark fig¬ 
ures of the priests disappearing toward the 
north. The children shrank back again into 
the shadow. 

“What shall we do next?” said Daphne. 
“We don’t know our way anywhere at all. 
We don’t evea know where our uncle lives.” 

“ What was the name of that rich man 
at whose house they said Pericles was go¬ 
ing to the banquet?” asked Dion, with a 
sudden inspiration. 

“Oh, dear,” said Daphne, “I can’t think. 
Let me see. Hip— Hip—” 

142 


“ Ponicus,” finished Dion, “that’s it! 
Surely any Athenian would know where a 
rich man like Hipponicus lives. We must 
just go along until we meet some one we 
can ask.” 

“ Suppose we should meet Lampon ! ” 
shuddered Daphne. 

“We shan’t,” said Dion; “they’ve gone 
off that way. They are going to the street 
of the Amphorae. We should recognize 
that street. It has the long row of vases, 
don’t you remember? We went through it 
this morning.” 

“ If we can find the house of Hipponicus 
and warn Pericles about the priests, I’m 
sure he ’ll take care of us,” said Daphne. 

Encouraged by this thought, the two 
children passed boldly out of the shadow 
and ran westward. They passed a few peo¬ 
ple, but for the most part, the street was 
deserted, and they met no one they dared 
speak to. At last they came to the city 
wall and a gate. 

“Now what shall we do?” murmured 


143 


Daphne. “We can’t go any farther this 
way.” 

“Why, I know this place,” Dion whis¬ 
pered joyfully. “It’s the gate that opens 
into the paved road to the Piraeus. It’s 
the very gate we came through this morn¬ 
ing ! The luck is surely with us now.” 

“ Let’s stay here and speak to the first 
person that comes along,” said Daphne. 
“I’m sure it will be the right one.” 

The two children waited with beating 
hearts. A tall figure now appeared walking 
toward the gate, followed by a slave carry¬ 
ing a torch. As the man drew near, the chil¬ 
dren went boldly out to meet him. 

“ Can you tell us the way to the house of 
Hipponicus?” asked Dion politely. 

The man stopped, and the slave held the 
torch so his master could see the faces of 
the children. 

“By all the Gods,” said the man, “what 
are you children doing out here at this time 
of the night?” 

“The Stranger! Anaxagoras ! ” cried 
144 


Daphne. “Oh, I knew Athena would help 
us ! ” and the two children threw themselves 
into his arms, so great was their'relief and 
joy. 

They told him the whole story of their 
adventure on the Acropolis and why they 
wanted to find the house of Hipponicus. 

“Well,” said Anaxagoras, when they had 
finished, “ I live in the Piraeus. I was on my 
way home, but now I shall go with you to 
the house of Hipponicus, and you shall tell 
your story to Pericles himself.” 




\ 


I 

V 


VII 

HOME AGAIN 


I 




1 






VII 

HOME AGAIN 


Under the guidance and protection of An¬ 
axagoras and the slave, the children were 
soon ushered into the court of the richest 
house in Athens, and then Anaxagoras sent 
a message to Pericles, who was dining with 
a group of men in a large room opening off 
the court. When the slave'opened the door 
of the banquet-room, the children caught a 
glimpse of men reclining on couches, with 
wreaths about their heads, and heard for 
an instant the sound of laughter and gay 
voices. The smell of food came also, and the 
Twins sniffed the delicious odor hungrily. 
Soon Pericles appeared, wearing a wreath 
upon his brow, and, as Daphne thought, 
looking more like a God than ever. Anax¬ 
agoras told him the story which the Twins 
had told to him. 


149 


“A very neat plot! Is it not?” said 
Pericles gravely, when Anaxagoras had 
fimshed. 

“They said something about you too,” 
said Daphne, lifting her eyes to Anaxagoras. 

“Indeed!” said Anaxagoras. “So I am 
in it, too! What did they say?” 

“They said you were an old fox,” said 
Daphne. The two men laughed. 

“ I trust I may live up to their opinion 
of me,” said Anaxagoras. 

Then Pericles looked at the children and 
laid his hand gently upon their tousled heads. 

“ So you ran alone through Athens at 
night to warn me, did you?” he said. “And 
you have been in great danger for my sake? 
I shall know how to deal with those two 
pious old serpents of the Acropolis. Thanks 
to you, I shall not fall into their coils. And 
Pericles does not forget an obligation. Now, 
my little Spartans,” he added, tipping up 
their chins and looking at their pale and 
pinched faces, “it’s time you had something 
to eat!” 


He clapped his hands and a slave ap¬ 
peared. “Say to Hipponicusthat two friends 
of Pericles are in the court, and he begs 
that they may be served there with the best 
the house affords.” 

The slave disappeared and soon returned 
bringing such a feast as the Twins had 
never tasted in their whole lives before. 
Pericles waited, talking quietly with An¬ 
axagoras, until their hunger was partly 
appeased, and then he spoke to them 
again. 

“Now, my brave Spartans,” he said, 
“since you have been so considerate of my 
safety, it is well that I should look after 
yours. Have you any idea where your Fa¬ 
ther may be found? He is probably search¬ 
ing the town for you.” 

“We were to spend the night at the house 
of my Uncle Phaon, the stone-cutter,” said 
Dion, “but we don’t know where he lives.” 

“ Phaon,” said Pericles, stroking his 
beard. “Is he not a workman in the shop 
of Phidias the sculptor? He has a stone- 

151 


cutter of that name, and, now I think of it, 
he is called Phaon the Spartan.’' 

“That must be my uncle,” said Dion, 
“but I don’t know where he lives. I have 
never been to Athens before, and Uncle 
Phaon does not come to the farm.” 

“We can find out from Phidias,” said 
Anaxagoras, and, turning to his slave, he 
said, “Run quickly to the house of Phidias 
and say to him that Pericles the Archon 
wishes to know where to find the house of 
Phaon the stone-cutter.” 

The slave sped away and returned in a 
short time with the message that Phaon lived 
near the northwest gate. “ And I know the 
way there,” added the slave. 

“Very well,” said Anaxagoras. “We 
will take these children there. Then I will 
await you at your house, Pericles, for I 
wish to hear the end of the story, and to 
know how you deal with those two old 
traitors.” 

“Now that I know their purpose,” said 
Pericles, “ it is easy to defeat it! I shall 
152 


return no word to their abuse. When I 
reach my house, I shall politely offer my 
assailant the escort of my slave, to light 
him home with his torch.” 

Anaxagoras laughed heartily. 

'‘Good,” he cried, “and humorous as 
well. A torch to light up their evil faces is 
the last thing in the world they would wish 
to have. You could not devise a more per¬ 
fect plan to foil their wicked schemes.” 

“ I wish all plots might be as easily 
frustrated,” said Pericles gravely. Then, 
turning to the children, he added kindly: 
“You have nothing further to fear. My 
good friend Anaxagoras and his slave will 
see you safely to your uncle’s house, and 
he will surely know where to find your 
Father.” 

“ You won’t let Lampon catch us and sell 
us for slaves, will you?” begged Daphne, 
shuddering. “They said they would sell us 
in Alexandria.” 

Pericles’ brow darkened. “They threat¬ 
ened that, did they?” he exclaimed. “The 

153 


wretches shall not lay a finger upon you! 
Pericles the Archon has said it. And now 
you must hurry away. Your Father will 
be torn with anxiety until he sees you 
again. To-morrow morning I shall send 
a messenger to your uncle’s house with a 
package for you, which you must not open 
until you are safe at home again. And 
when you grow up to be strong, brave 
men, I shall expect you to be generals in 
the army of Athens at the very least.” 

“ I can’t grow up to be a strong, brave 
man,” said Daphne in a very small voice. 
“I wish I could. But I'm a girl.” 

“A girl!” cried Pericles in amazement, 
“and so brave! Surely then you will at least 
be the mother of heroes some time. But 
after this stay more quietly at home, my 
child. Women should have no history.” 
And he disappeared through the door into 
the banquet-hall. 

When the Twins, accompanied by An¬ 
axagoras and the slave, finally reached the 
house of their uncle, they found the door 
154 



open and people hurrying excitedly to and 
fro, carrying torches in their hands. In the 
court of the house stood Melas, talking 
with Phaon and his wife. 

“ I have searched every nook and cranny 
of the Acropolis,” Melas was saying. “I 
do not see how they could have escaped 

iSS 


me. 





“It’s a punishment of the Gods,” said 
the wife of Phaon. “You should not have 
let Daphne run the streets like a boy. It’s 
against nature. No decent Athenian girl 
would be allowed to. I never put my nose 
out of my Mother’s house except on the 
days of women’s festivals until I was mar¬ 
ried.” 

“But, my dear,” said Phaon mildly, 
“you forget the Spartans are different.” 

“I should say they were!” snapped the 
wife of Phaon, “and now they may see 
what comes of it. It’s my opinion these 
wild children have fallen off the cliffs on 
the north side of the Acropolis.” 

Melas shuddered, sank down upon a 
stool, and hid his face. Just at that mo¬ 
ment there was a sudden rush of feet be¬ 
hind him and he felt four arms flung about 
his neck. Spartan though he was, Melas 
trembled, and his eyes were wet as he 
clasped his children in his arms. Anax¬ 
agoras stood in the doorway a moment 
smiling at the happy group, and then gently 

156 


slipped away without waiting for any 
thanks. 

Early the next morning a basket ad¬ 
dressed to the “brave children of Melas 
the Spartan, from Pericles the Archon,” 
was delivered by a slave at the door of 
Phaon. The Twins had been eagerly ex¬ 
pecting it, and when it arrived they were 
no less eager to start for home, since Peri¬ 
cles had told them not to open it until they 
were under their own roof once more. 
Their aunt, the wife of Phaon, was filled 
with curiosity to know the contents. More¬ 
over, since she had learned the whole story 
of the night before and knew that the chil¬ 
dren had won the favor and were now un¬ 
der the avowed protection of Pericles, her 
respect for them and for Spartans in gen¬ 
eral had greatly increased. 

“ Let us see what gifts the great Pericles 
has sent you! ” she cried, when the package 
came. 

“ No, no,” said Daphne hastily. “ He said 
we should not open it until we got home.” 

157 



“Very well, then,” said the wife of Phaon, 
sulkily, “only then I shall never see what’s 
in it.” 

“Well,” said Daphne piously, “you 
remember about Pandora, don’t you? I 
wouldn’t dare open it until the time comes!” 

To this the aunt could make no reply. 
Melas, too, had no wish to linger in Athens 
after the experience of the day before. The 

158 


children were in terror of meeting Lampon, 
and Melas himself felt it would be a great 
load off his mind to get them safely back 
to their quiet house on Salamis once more 
and into their Mother’s care. So they bade 
Phaon and his wife good-bye and started 
before noon for the Piraeus. 

At the dock they found the boat ready for 
its return journey across the bay. Nearby 
was the large black hull of an African ship, 
bound for Alexandria. Dion pointed to it. 

“ Suppose we were on that this minute,” 
he said to Daphne, and Daphne covered 
her eyes and shook with horror at the mere 
thought of it. 

It was nearly night when the three weary 
wanderers climbed the last hill and turned 
from the roadway into the path which led 
to the old farm-house. Lydia was stand¬ 
ing in the doorway with Chloe behind her, 
smiling, and Argos came bounding out to 
meet them, wagging his tail and barking 
for joy. 

It was a happy party that gathered 
'59 


around the hearth-fire that night. Lydia 
had prepared a wonderful feast to greet the 
travelers. There were roast chicken, and 
sausages too, and goat’s milk, and figs. 
They opened the basket by fire-light, and 
if all the Christmases of your whole life 
had been rolled into one, it couldn’t have 
been more wonderful to you than the gifts 
of Pericles were to Dion and Daphne. 
There was a soft robe of scarlet for each 
of them, with golden clasps to fasten it. 
There were a purse of gold coins and two 
beautiful parchment books — all written by 
hand, for of course there were no printed 
books in those days. There were gifts for 
their Father and Mother, too, and, best of 
all, a letter written with Pericles’ own hand 
and addressed to “Euripides the Poet, of 
Salamis.” With it came a note to Melas, 
saying he might read the letter, as he 
wished him to know its contents. This was 
the letter: — 

“ Pericles the Archon to Euripides the 
Poet, Greetings. 

i6o 


The bearers of this letter are friends of 
mine who have rendered me a great service. 
By their timely warning I -was enabled to 
foil a plot to make me appear to the public 
as an enemy of the Gods. As sufficient rec¬ 
ompense I commend them to your friend¬ 
ship. No greater service can be rendered 
Athens than to raise up noble and patriotic 
defenders. To this end I commit these chil¬ 
dren to your guidance, the girl no less than 
the boy. Give them, I beg, the benefit of 
your wisdom, since they have proven them¬ 
selves worthy of such honor, and Athens- 
shall one day thank you for this service.” 

And so it was that Dion and Daphne, 
the Spartans, not only mastered the learn¬ 
ing of their time, but also became the friends 
of Pericles the Athenian and of Euripides 
the Poet, and perhaps now wander with 
them in the Elysian Fields. 










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SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS 


A STUDY period for the working out of the pronunciation of the 
more difficult names and words will be the only preparation for 
reading The Spartan Twins needed by the average fifth grade 
class. The story can usually be read at sight in the sixth grade. 

It will admirably supplement the study of Greek History 
in these grades. The essential thing is for the teacher to pro¬ 
vide the proper background for the story. The value in the 
history of the Greeks lies in the lessons of bravery and of 
love of country that it brings us, and in the inspiration and 
beauty of the myths, dramas, poems, and orations, the stat¬ 
ues and temples that survive to our time. The fundamental 
aim in its study in the fifth and sixth grades is not so much 
to store the child’s mind with details as to make such impres¬ 
sions as will guide him to a later appreciation of why we re¬ 
member the Greeks, and what we have learned from them. 

In these days of a “new internationalism,” the teacher’s 
most immediate duty is to bring her pupils to a realization of 
what Americanism and democracy mean, and that each is 
a development from the past. To do this, she should explain 
that before there were immigrants, there were discoverers 
and colonists, from Spain, England, and France; and that 
these countries had their origin in colonies from Rome, her¬ 
self a colony from Greece. The teacher should explain that 
the spirit in these ancient cities that inspired colonization, 
trade, and empire was the inherent and ineradicable desire of 
men, first, for the opportunity of ruling themselves, and then 
to establish bonds of union against foreign aggression. Chil¬ 
dren will then perceive that the ancient Greeks were men quite 
like ourselves; and that they began the ways of government 
which we have, and which our forefathers brought to Amer¬ 
ica. So much for what we learned from the Greeks. 

As to why we remember them, let the teacher recall the 
stories already familiar through supplementary reading in 
literature, the Golden Fleece, Hercules, the Siege of Troy, the 
Wanderings of Ulysses; let her point out Greek cities which 
still exist, Athens, Marseilles, Alexandria, Constantinople; 
let her tell the stories of Marathon, of Leonidas and Ther¬ 
mopylae, and of Salamis; let her show pictures of Athens, the 
most splendid city of ancient Greece, of the Acropolis, the 
Parthenon, the Venus of Milo, the Hermes of Praxiteles, the 
Discus Thrower, and so on. 


This book affords opportunity to contrast the way in which 
children were brought up in Sparta with the way in which they 
were brought up in Athens. The ideals of these two city- 
states also may be contrasted. Although cities might have 
separate interests, it should be shown that throughout Greece 
there were interests in common, of which the people were 
reminded through the Olympic games. 

The teacher is referred to the following volumes for further 
assistance in re-creating the atmosphere of ancient Greece: — 

Tappan’s The Story of the Greek People, Old World Hero 
Stories, and Our European Ancestors; Hawthorne’s Wonder- 
Book and Tanglewood Tales; Peabody’s Old Greek Folk Stories; 
Bryant’s translation of the Odyssey and of the Iliad; Palmer’s 
translation of the Odyssey; Hopkinson’s Greek Leaders; Plu¬ 
tarch’s Alexander the Great; Marden’s Greece and the Mgean 
Islands; Kuril’s Greek Sculpture and How to Show Pictures to 
Children; Masterpieces of Greek Literature. 

Like all the other volumes in the “Twins Series,” The Spar¬ 
tan Twins furnishes ample subjects for dramatization. The 
unique illustrations should be of assistance, and other illus¬ 
trations in most of the books referred to above also will help 
to show scenery, costumes, furniture, and utensils. 

The story will suggest many topics for class discussion, and 
in addition such questions as the following will help the pu¬ 
pils to visualize the Greece of the past: — 

I. Why would ancient Greece have been a pleasant coun¬ 
try to live in? 2. How would it affect your home town if it 
were shut off from all others? 3. Judging from the Greek 
stories, what sort of men did they regard as heroes? What 
sort of men do we regard as heroes to-day? 4. In the stories 
of gods and heroes, are there scenes that would make good 
pictures? 5. Imagine you are Pericles, and make a speech 
telling the Athenians why they ought to beautify their city. 

6. What could be done to beautify the place in which you live? 

7. Which one of the Greeks or their heroes do you regard as 
the greatest man? Why? 8. What was good and what was 
not good in the training of the Spartan boys? 9. In what 
respects was the training of the Athenian boys better? 
10. How do the ideas of one child become known to other 
children? How do the ideas of one country become kriown 
to other countries? ii. Had the Greeks good reasons for 
emigrating? 12. Imagine that you are an ancient Greek and 
tell why you became a colonist. 


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